Lady Eureka; or, The Mystery: A Prophecy of the Future. Volume 3
by Robert Folkestone Williams · English · Gutenberg #42493 · 357,583 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Lady Eureka; or, The Mystery: A Prophecy of the Future. Volume 3
Author: Robert Folkestone Williams
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Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LADY EUREKA; OR, THE MYSTERY: A PROPHECY OF THE FUTURE. VOLUME 3 ***
LADY EUREKA;
OR,
THE MYSTERY:
A PROPHECY OF THE FUTURE.
BY THE AUTHOR
OF
"MEPHISTOPHELES IN ENGLAND."
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.
LONDON:
LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, GREEN, & LONGMANS,
PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1840.
LONDON;
Printed by A. SPOTTISWOODE,
New-Street-Square.
CONTENTS
I. ROLY POLY'S SICKNESS, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
II. AN AUSTRALIAN COLONY IN SPAIN.
III. OLD ENGLAND.
IV. THE LAST OF THE ENGLISHMEN.
V. AN ACCOUNT OF THE DECLINE AND FALL OF OLD ENGLAND.
VI. THE DEATH OF THE LAST OF THE ENGLISHMEN.
VII. LILYA.
VIII. LOVE MISPLACED.
IX. A DISCOVERY.
X. A FIGHT AT SEA.
XI. THE DEATH OF CAPTAIN DEATH, AND THE MEETING OF THE SHIPS.
XII. THE CONCLUSION.
EUREKA;
A PROPHECY OF THE FUTURE.
CHAPTER I.
ROLY POLY'S SICKNESS, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
"Oh, massa, I so bad!" exclaimed the fat cook, as he waddled up to the
surgeon, with a most woeful expression of countenance.
"What's the matter with you, Roly Poly?" inquired Dr. Tourniquet.
"Sich a debble ob a pain, massa," continued the black.
"But where is it, man? where is it? Can't do you any good till I know
what's the matter with you, don't you see," said the surgeon.
"Debble ob a pain, massa, in my tomack," replied his patient, rubbing
his huge hand over his stomach, and heaving the most despairing of
sighs.
"Put out your tongue," exclaimed the doctor.
The fat cook extended a pair of enormous jaws, and protruded something
which resembled a scorched brick-bat.
"Ah! derangement of the digestive functions," remarked the practitioner,
after a brief inspection of the misshapen lump of flesh his patient had
exhibited. "What have you been eating?"
"Eatin, massa?" repeated Roly Poly, looking most ludicrously pathetic,
"can't eat nutting, massa, to tink of. Loss nappetite 'pletely.
Breakfast, me only eat pound and harp o' beef--berry little lump o' cold
puddin big as my two fistes," (which were the size of another person's
head), "two or tree red herrin--harp-a-dozen egg--lope o' bread, and
one, two quart o' cocoa. Nuttin more, me 'sure you, massa. Yes, me loss
nappetite 'pletely. Den for lunch, me eat pound and harp o' beef--berry
little lump o' cold puddin, big as my two fistes--two or tree red
herrin--and drop o' liquor wash it down, not more den harp a gallon,
nutting to tink of, massa. Den for dinner me eat pound and harp o'
beef--berry little lump o' hot puddin, big as my two fistes--plate or
two o' wedgeables--lope o' bread--small bit o' cheese, big as one o' my
two fistes--and drop o' liquor wash it down, not more nor harp a gallon.
Can't eat nuttin. Den for tea me eat pound and harp o' beef--berry
little lump o' cold puddin, big as my two fistes--two or tree red
herrin--harp-a-dozen egg--lope o' bread, and one, two quart o' cocoa.
Nuttin to tink of. Den for supper, me eat pound and harp o' beef--berry
little lump o' cold puddin, big as my two fistes--two or tree red
herrin, and two or tree roasted tatoroes--lope o' bread--small bit o'
cheese, big as one o' my two fistes--and drop o' liquor wash it down,
not more nor harp a gallon. Me eat nuttin, massa. Loss nappetite
'pletely."
"Why, you eat enough to satisfy a regiment," exclaimed Dr. Tourniquet.
"No, massa, me berry poor eater," replied the fat cook in a doleful
tone; "eat nuttin to sinnify. Ony pound and harp o' beef--berry little
lump o' cold puddin----"
"Yes, yes; I've heard all that," said the doctor, impatiently
interrupting him. "Your plethoric habit must be reduced, don't you see.
You must be bled and physicked, till we bring down that mountain of
flesh into something like a healthy size. You must eat no beef, no
pudding, no red herrings, no eggs, and no cheese; and drink neither
liquor nor cocoa. You must drink nothing but barley water, and eat
nothing but arrow-root; and run up and down the deck for half an hour,
half-a-dozen times a-day."
As the Doctor described the remedies he desired his patient to adopt,
Roly Poly's mouth gradually extended itself till it threatened to
approach his ears; and his eyes kept winking and staring as if in
complete consternation.
"Massa!" at last he loudly exclaimed, and seemed gradually becoming
more indignant. "What, starve poor nigger! reduce poor Roly Poly to a
natomy! No eat no pound and harp o' beef, no berry little lump o' cold
puddin big as my two fistes--no red herrin--no nuttin! You want to kill
poor Roly Poly, Sar! You want to 'prive de world o' de cook what makes
de booflifulest dishes as you nebber see, Sar! You want to make skeleton
o' poor nigger to put in glass-case, Sar! Nebber heard o' sich numanity!
sick barbararity--sich cruelty to anmals! Where de debble you spect to
go when you die?"
"Well, if you don't like to follow my prescriptions, it's no use coming
for my advice, don't you see," remarked the Doctor.
"Follow your scriptions?" replied his patient, losing all respect for
his companion in the intensity of his indignation. "Follow a shark's
grandmutter, Sar. What, eat nuttin but arrow-root? nassy slop!--pooty
joke indeed. Drink nuttin but barley water?--washy stuff! Tink you catch
me at it. Be bled and physicked, and run up and down deck six times a
day for harp an hour--what a preposterosterous impossumbility."
"You will get much worse if you don't, and possibly you may die, don't
you see," observed Tourniquet.
"Die, Massa!" cried the fat cook, looking horrified at the idea, and
rubbing his stomach with an increased energy. "Oh, sich a debble ob a
pain! Die Massa! Poor Roly Poly die? Sich a boofliful cook die! Quite
unnatral, Massa. Oh, sich a debble ob a pain! What become o' de poor
fellars who eat him nice puddins, and soups, and all dat? Nebber hab no
beckfast; nebber hab no lunch; nebber hab no dinner; nebber hab no tea;
nebber hab no supper; never hab no nuttin! What become o' ebry body?
What become o' ship? Same o' you say Roly Poly die! Nobody do nuttin
widout him; cook be most important ofcer in ship. Roly Poly be
booflifulest cook as nebber was. Same o' you say Roly Poly die!"
"Well you will find out the difference by-and-bye, don't you see," said
the Doctor; and, turning on his heel, he left his patient to his own
reflections.
"Him no more doctor dan a jackmorass," muttered the fat cook, as he
waddled to another part of the ship, making the most ludicrous grimaces,
and rubbing his stomach with an activity, that for him, was quite
surprising. On his way he met with Loop, the young midshipman, who had
lately distinguished himself by his love of mischief, and fondness for
tricks. The lad, with a very demure face, approached Roly Poly.
"How do you do, Roly Poly?" he inquired, looking into his face as if he
was wonderfully interested in the result of his question.
"Oh, sich a debble ob a pain!" replied the fat cook, with a most
melancholy visage, continuing the up and down motion of his hand.
"You look very ill, very ill indeed," observed the boy. "What an
extraordinary change! I should scarcely have known you. You must be in
a very dangerous state, Roly Poly. You ought to be in your hammock. You
ought to be making your will--you ought to be saying your prayers."
"Oo, oo, oo!" blubbered out the fat cook, lengthening his face as he
listened to the remarks of his companion. "You tink I die, Massa Loop?"
"I am much afraid you will be as dead as a herring before you can look
about you," replied Loop.
"Oo, oo, oo!" The other continued. "Doctor say I die: you say I die:
spose I must die. Oo, oo, oo!----"
"We are all mortal," observed the youth, with a grave countenance; "and
all, sooner or later, must leave this sublunary world. Cooks cannot be
spared any more than midshipmen."
"Oo, oo, oo!" cried Roly Poly.
"Is there any thing I can do for you?" anxiously inquired the
midshipman;--"any consolation I can afford, before your cold remains are
consigned to the deep."
"Oo, oo, oo!" continued the fat cook.
"You must have fortitude to bear the blow," said Loop, with a
countenance that would have done credit to a judge. "Let this be your
consolation, that although your body will be devoured by the first shark
that ventures in its way----"
"Oo, oo, oo, oo!" vehemently sobbed the sick man, interrupting the
sentence before it was half finished.
"You ought now to think of your sins," continued his tormentor. "It is
never too late to repent, you know; and I should earnestly advise you to
confess all the injuries you have done your fellow-creatures by imposing
upon their stomachs the villanous specimens of your cookery you have
from time to time set before them. Confess upon what pipe-clay and
train-oil system you made your puddings,--confess the abominable trash
you put together to manufacture into soups;--confess how many you have
poisoned with your atrocious cocoa--confess----"
It is possible that the young midshipman might have said much more,
but Roly Poly, who had listened to his injunctions at first with
astonishment, and next with rage, lost all consideration for his
approaching dissolution, and his yellow eyeballs flashed with fury.
"What de debble you mean you fellar!" thundered out the enraged cook,
approaching his companion, who wisely kept out of arms' reach. "What de
debble you mean ob pipe-clay and train-oil? What you mean ob bominable
trash--what you mean ob poison wid trocious cocoa? You mean to sult me,
Sar? You tink I put up wid your imprance, Sar? You spose I low one man
to peak sick horble tings o' nodder man."
"Man!" exclaimed the youth, as he edged away from his pursuer,--"You
don't call yourself a man, surely? You know you're nothing else but an
old blacking bottle, turned inside out."
"Blacka bottle!" shouted Roly Poly, while his face became livid with
rage, and he looked utter annihilation at his insulter, "Blacka bottle!
I blacka bottle you, I catch you!" and he waddled after the midshipman
as fast as his fat legs would carry him, intent upon vengeance.
Loop kept dodging him about from one place to another, saying the most
aggravating things he could think of, till the perspiration rolled
down the black cheeks of the infuriated cook, and he seemed completely
exhausted by his exertions. Roly Poly sat down at the foot of one of the
masts to rest himself, breathing all sorts of threatenings against his
tormentor; while the young midshipman, laughing at the success of his
trick, nimbly ascended the yards, and took up a position just over
the head of the victim of his mischief. The latter was congratulating
himself that he was left at peace, and was endeavouring to recover
the tranquillity of his temper, when he became conscious of something
dropping down upon him; putting his hand to his woolly head, he
discovered it was being covered with pitch, and, looking up, beheld
Master Loop snugly balanced aloft, amusing himself by pouring from an
old bucket some of the fluid that had polluted his person.
It would be in vain attempting to delineate the passion of the fat cook
at this discovery. Furious with rage, he caught up a small hand-spike
that lay near, and poised it in his hand with the intention of throwing
it at his tormentor. Loop saw what he was about to do, and immediately,
as rapidly as possible, moved from his position, and kept changing from
place to place, with a quickness that baffled the fat cook's aim; but
when he had ascended to a greater height, and was passing from one point
to another with a velocity that seemed impossible to be imitated, his
foot slipped, and with a scream that made all on deck aware of his
danger, he fell headlong into the sea.
The Albatross was proceeding at a moderate rate, and was about fifty
miles off the coast of Spain. Oriel Porphyry was conversing with Zabra
on the quarter-deck, when he noticed the accident. He, with others,
rushed to the side; and, observing where the boy descended, he
immediately threw off his upper garments, and plunged into the waves.
There was a strong sea running at the time, and it required the arm of
a powerful swimmer to force a way through the heaving billows. Upon
arriving at the surface, after his plunge, Oriel struck out for the
spot where the midshipman had fallen, but saw nothing of the object
of his search. He dived about in every direction; but was equally
unsuccessful. Anxious to endeavour to save the youth while a possibility
remained of his rescue, he continued his exertions; but he met with
nothing that could in the slightest degree, assist him in his object.
Not a trace of the boy was to be seen. Disappointed and weary, he
was about returning to the ship, when he caught the sound of a faint,
bubbling cry at no great distance from him, and turning his eyes in that
direction, he thought he could distinguish something like a human head
in the trough of an advancing wave. He swum rapidly in that direction;
and as he approached, saw it disappear from the surface. Down he dived
after it as rapidly as his skill would allow; but though he swept the
waters, far and near, with his arms, he touched nothing but the cold
salt water; and after remaining beneath the surface till his strength
and breath were nearly exhausted, he arose, dispirited and faint, into
the open air.
While the most painful reflections were created in his mind, by the
unsuccessful result of his labours, he suddenly observed a dark
substance rise within a few feet of him; he struck out towards it
in a moment, and grasping it firmly with his hand, to his deep and
inexpressible delight discovered it to be the body of the lost
midshipman. His face was pallid, his skin cold, and as Oriel found that
he made no reply to his hurried inquiries, he was much afraid that the
boy was either dead, or was in a state nearly approaching dissolution.
By this time the ship had been put about, and the sailors having been
made acquainted with the accident rushed with anxious faces to the side.
They watched with the deepest interest the young merchant gallantly
breasting the waves in search of their drowning favourite, and became
uneasy as they noticed the unprofitableness of his efforts. But none
regarded the progress of the swimmer with such intense excitement of
feeling as Zabra. He saw his patron pass from wave to wave--he observed
him dive into the dark waters, and waited for his re-appearance with
sensations impossible to be described. As the vessel was brought round
to the spot where Oriel Porphyry was pursuing his researches, he became
more earnest in his attention. He endeavoured to encourage him in
his efforts with his voice, and to strengthen him in his purpose by
his praise. The captain had not ascended to the deck, and he was
unacquainted with the accident: but as soon as he was made aware of it,
he hurried to the ship's side in an agony of apprehension, and it was
only the strong grasp of Boggle and Climberkin that prevented him from
plunging into the sea.
A loud cheer from the crew announced that the young merchant had
succeeded in finding the object of his solicitude, and anxiously every
eye turned towards the spot where he was seen supporting the boy with
one arm and cleaving his way through the waves with the other.
"A shark--a shark!" screamed Zabra; and to the horror of Oriel and
those who were observing him, a monstrous shark was seen coming rapidly
towards him. A cry of terror arose from the ship. Some shouted in hopes
of frightening away the ravenous animal--others to warn the young
merchant of his danger. Some ran to get fire arms, and Hearty, breaking
away from those who held him, suddenly hurried below the deck. The agony
of Zabra became insupportable. He screamed in all the piercing tones
of horror and despair, and his handsome features seemed convulsed with
fear. Still, as if there was a fascination in the object, he kept his
eyes upon the form of the shark. He watched its movements with a fearful
interest, and saw it near its intended victim with wild and frantic
terror.
Oriel Porphyry beheld the approach of the giant of the deep with
consternation and dread. He could not abandon his companion, who was
incapable of making the least exertion for his own safety, and he saw no
way of rescue for himself. He held the boy tighter, and dashed along the
waves with greater velocity in hopes of reaching the rope that was hung
out from the ship before the huge animal could come up with him. To the
attainment of this purpose he strained all his powers. Many friendly
voices cheered him on, and others strove all they could to frighten
away his remorseless enemy. But the shark kept on his way, unheeding the
frightful cries and showers of missiles with which he was assailed. His
fierce eyes were fixed upon his prey, and his monstrous jaws were gaping
for their food. The rope was almost within reach, but the destroyer was
nearer. Oriel Porphyry gave himself up for lost. It appeared evident to
all that he could not escape. The crew redoubled their cries and flung
every thing at hand at the monster without avail. Just as he was turning
on his side to make the fatal gripe, Hearty rushed upon the deck with a
long knife in his hand, and before any one was aware of his purpose, he
leaped over the side of the ship and descended into the water close to
the jaws of the shark, with a splash that completely distracted the
animal's attention, and allowed Oriel Porphyry unmolested to seize the
rope which the eager sailors held to assist him in regaining the vessel.
In a moment, with his lifeless burthen still grasped in his arm, he
was hawled upon the deck, and then placing him under the care of Dr.
Tourniquet, he was turning to notice the result of the Captain's
manoeuvre when he found himself seized by the friendly grasp of Zabra,
whose delight at his escape appeared to have taken away all power of
utterance.
But now an extraordinary scene presented itself upon the sea. The shark
had dived below the surface, when Hearty suddenly dashed down before
him; but on rising again, which he very shortly did, and on perceiving
his prey escape, he turned with increased ferocity towards the hardy
seaman, who was rejoicing at the success of his scheme. The old man
waited quietly till the shark turned to make a snap at him, then diving
quickly under his enormous belly, he plunged the knife up to the hilt in
his body, and rose up on the other side. The crew cheered vociferously
when they saw what their captain was about, and every one on board
watched the unequal combat with feelings of the most intense interest.
The ravenous monster, smarting with pain, again approached his opponent;
again he turned to gripe him within his jaws, and again the old man
diving under his belly, plunged his knife deep into his flesh. The
animal now became furious; he lashed the waves with his tail till they
became a mass of foam, and rapidly followed his brave antagonist, making
every effort to devour him; but the old man warily avoided all his
ferocious attempts, and at every blow of his arm crimsoned the water
with his blood. This fight continued for several minutes, till both the
combatants disappeared from the surface, when the anxious crew of the
Albatross began to fear that their brave old commander had fallen a
sacrifice to his exertions; but when they beheld the huge fish floating
on the water belly upwards, and heard the old man cry out for a rope, a
long and hearty cheer rose from the ship, and every one rushed to bear
a hand in assisting him on board.
He appeared covered with the blood of the slaughtered shark, and with
the weapon in his hand, of which he had made such good service. While he
was receiving the congratulations of his messmates, he inquired eagerly
after his young relative. Oriel, who had ascertained that he was doing
well, hastened to communicate the intelligence; and the old man as soon
as he beheld the preserver of his boy, eagerly grasped his hand, and
uttered his grateful thanks. Both soon afterwards left the deck to
change their apparel.
Among those who seemed most anxious for the recovery of the young
midshipman was Roly Poly, who, although exceedingly passionate, and
easily enraged, was a very good hearted sort of creature, and he quite
forgot the insults he had received--forgot even the terrible pains
that had a short time since so much alarmed him, when he witnessed the
dangers to which the boy had been exposed, and saw him brought lifeless
upon the deck. He assisted Dr. Tourniquet in using the usual means for
restoring suspended animation, and observed his recovery with a delight
equal to that of any one in the ship.
After Loop was able to walk about, Roly Poly addressed him with a great
deal of gravity upon the offence he had committed.
"Nebber you gain call me Blacka Bottle," said the fat cook. "Nebber
you say nuttin scandabalous bout de boofliful tings what I cook.
Nebber you say no preposterosterous impossumbilities. Horble ting,
massa Loop, to call Roly Poly Blacka Bottle--Horble ting to say nuttin
scandabalous--Horble ting to say preposterosterous impossumbilities."
"I'll never say any thing against you again, Roly Poly, as long as I
live," exclaimed the contrite midshipman: and thus ended the quarrel;
and ever afterwards they were the best friends in the ship.
CHAP. II.
AN AUSTRALIAN COLONY IN SPAIN.
"We are approaching the Colony to which you thought of emigrating,
are we not?" inquired Oriel Porphyry of the captain's clerk, who
stood beside him on the deck, and with whom he had been in earnest
conversation concerning the misfortunes of the young Australian.
An expression of pain and regret passed over Ardent's countenance.
"Yes it was here," he replied making a violent effort to conquer his
emotion. "We were destined to the penal settlement of New Sydney on the
Spanish coast, thriving accounts of which were in circulation in
Australia. My brothers were desirous of a location somewhere near the
banks of the Guadalquivir, as, although it was thinly settled, the land
was said to be of a very superior quality. My father was of the same
inclination. I had no other wish than to accompany them. Optima was
anxious for nothing but to be with me. But, alas! the devouring flame,
or the equally unrelenting flood has swallowed up all. I am a wanderer
and a beggar.--I have neither kin nor country."
"Say not so," replied the young merchant kindly. "I have not forgotten
the services you have rendered me, nor am I likely to pass them by
without notice. If you wish to settle at the colony, I will take care
you shall have the means of doing so with every hope of success; or if
you have no particular inclination towards any country, if you will
return with me to Columbia, you may depend upon meeting with many kind
friends, and may pass the rest of your life in comfort. I must touch at
New Sydney as I expect a letter from my father, from whom I have not for
some time had any communication, which makes me exceedingly anxious; and
if you hear of any desirable farm or plot of land, I wish you would let
me know."
"Your kindness is overpowering," said Ardent, much affected. "I have
done nothing to deserve it. I have already been rewarded in a manner far
exceeding my deserts. But while I can be of any service, I should like
to remain with you. I have no ties to bind me to any country--and where
I can be useful is where I should like to dwell."
"So it shall be then," added Oriel Porphyry. "Be satisfied that the
remainder of your life shall bear no comparison with what has preceded
it. We are now nearing the shore. I shall require your services as I
have some business to transact; therefore you will be good enough to
prepare to land with me immediately."
As the Albatross approached the coast, the buildings of a small seaport
became distinguishable. Some large houses faced the sea, and a battery
commanded the entrance to the port; but with the exception of one or
two streets running at right angles, the buildings straggled about
with very little pretensions to regularity. The country seemed thinly
inhabited, yet looked fertile and picturesque. Broad hills and valleys
and noble views were observable in the distance;--a wild and lofty rock
rose along the coast; and forests of noble trees were spread out in
various directions. There was no shipping in the bay, except a few small
craft; but the beach was crowded with spectators. It was observed that,
among the hundreds who were watching the progress of the ship from the
shore, there was only one female: the rest were men, and they were
apparently of all ages, but principally men in the prime of life and in
the full vigour of health. The appearance of only one woman surrounded
by such an assemblage of the other sex seemed so remarkable, that it
attracted the attention of all on board. As the ship entered the bay,
several boats were put off, and the crew of each seemed to strain every
nerve in endeavouring to get first alongside the vessel. In a few
minutes the Albatross was boarded by several different parties.
"How many women have you?" cried one; as soon as he reached the deck.
"Let me see your cargo of female emigrants," demanded another as he
bustled up to the captain.
"I want a wife!" shouted a third.
"We have no women here," exclaimed Hearty.
"No women!" cried they in full chorus, looking as disappointed as men
could be.
"None," replied the captain.
"What! have you brought us no wives?" asked one in a most doleful tone.
"Nothing of the kind," said Hearty.
"Tarnation!" exclaimed they; and they looked at each other with all the
eloquence of mute despair.
"A little un 'ill do for me!" squeaked out a dumpy sort of fellow, with
a red nose and a pepper-and-salt waistcoat.
"We've got neither little nor big!" responded the captain.
"Tarnation!" again exclaimed the bachelors; and, slowly and
despondingly, they prepared to leave the ship.
"Now ar'nt you got nothing feminine of no kind?" earnestly asked a
sharp-visaged, lanky-looking settler, who seemed very loth to leave the
ship. "If she's a nigger, I don't care."
"I tell you we've got no women at all!" said old Hearty, rather sharply.
"Tarnation!" muttered the disappointed colonists: and in a short time
after they had reached the land, there was scarcely a creature, with the
exception of the female already alluded to, to be seen on the beach.
They had been expecting a ship laden with female emigrants, and as they
were very much in want of wives, imagining the Albatross to be the much
wished for vessel, they had been excessively eager to behold the cargo.
The incident created considerable amusement among the voyagers. The
sailors were particularly merry upon the occasion; and the rueful
visages of the unfortunate colonists afforded many a hearty laugh.
Oriel had landed, and was walking along the beach, when he was startled
by a short, quick scream, and turning round, beheld the female who had
previously attracted his attention, rush into the arms of the captain's
clerk. He had noticed, on his approach to the shore, that this woman,
who from her dress appeared to be a domestic servant, seemed to regard
the persons in the boat with an anxious scrutiny; but imagining it to be
the effect of curiosity, it did not excite in him any remark. Ardent, at
this rencontre, seemed to be in a state of surprise and wonder that kept
him speechless. He gazed upon the prepossessing features of the fair
stranger as earnestly as if he had no other faculty than that of seeing.
The kind and anxious look that met his own--the arms that clasped his
neck so firmly, and the gentle voice that murmured his name, convinced
him of a fact of which he was almost incredulous. It was Optima.
"By what fortunate chance did you escape the death I felt assured that
you had met with?" inquired Ardent, after, at Oriel's request, he
had for the purpose of privacy retired to a chamber in one of the
neighbouring habitations.
"When I found the boat sinking, I clung to it," replied his companion;
"and when it again rose to the surface I floated on it. The blow which
it had received from the ship had propelled it a considerable distance,
and the force of the waves carried it still farther. The plunge I had
received, for some minutes took my breath away; and, although I held on
with all my strength to the boat, the heavy waves continually breaking
upon me, and the alarming position in which I found myself placed,
made me quite incapable of uttering a sound. As soon as I was able to
comprehend the extent of my danger, the thought that I was separated
from you, and the fear that you had perished in the sea, made my heart
sink within me. I clung instinctively to the floating vessel; but I had
no desire to live. I had seen enough of that dreadful conflagration
to fill me with terror; and I had not recovered from the feelings it
occasioned, when I was left alone, friendless, and about to be engulphed
in the waters. All around me was so dark that I could see nothing; but
the saltwater, as it dashed over me, scarcely allowed me to open my
eyes if I could have seen, and my strength was being rapidly exhausted.
I soon sunk into a state of stupor. How long this lasted I do not know;
but on recovery, I found myself in a cabin, receiving every attention
that my wants required; and, on inquiry, I found that I had been picked
up by the crew of a ship, which, attracted by the glare of the burning
vessel, had sent out a boat, in hopes of affording assistance to the
survivors."
"I was saved in a similar manner," remarked Ardent.
"When they had taken me into the boat they did not proceed any farther,"
continued Optima, "as they observed that another vessel had sent out
a boat's crew upon the same errand, and having no spare time at their
command, they left the other boat to pick up the survivors, and returned
with me to the ship. I discovered also that the vessel to which I had
been conveyed had left Sydney with emigrants for the very colony to
which we were proceeding. I told my story to my preservers, and many
who heard it were kind and compassionate. An offer was made me by
the wife of a settler to remain with her in the capacity of domestic
servant, which offer I accepted without hesitation. One thing was a
great consolation to me, and that was the conviction that you had been
saved. I knew that you were a strong swimmer, and as I had been told
that a party had been sent from the ship to rescue the crew of the boat
they had run down, I concluded that you were in safety."
"You were right, dear Optima!" said the captain's clerk; "I was taken
on board that ship, and have since held in it a responsible situation."
"Believing you to have been rescued, I continued to live, with the hope
that I should meet you again," continued Optima. "I arrived at the
colony. The persons whose protection I had accepted, settled at Sydney,
where the husband commenced business as a builder, in which he succeeded
beyond his expectations. I was very well treated, and labour being
exceedingly valuable in the colony, my exertions were rather profitable
to me. At that time I entertained the idea that as all our property was
consumed in the fire, you must be very much in want of a variety of
comforts to which you had been used; and as the expectation of my
meeting you again was never absent from me, I laboured diligently, and
saved all my earnings as a provision for our future support."
Ardent could only look his gratitude, and rapturously kiss the hand he
held in his own.
"It was such a pleasure to me, dear Ardent," resumed his companion, "to
count my gains as fast as they accumulated, and I kept saying to myself
'a little more and there will be enough to begin the world again with;'
and I thought how happy I should be able to make you, and I kept hoping
we should soon meet--and every day passed by in imagining what we should
do, and in enjoying a happiness of my own creating. Every time I heard
that a ship was in the bay, I came down to the beach in hopes of finding
you among the passengers. I scrutinised every one that left the vessel
so closely that I offended some and surprised others; but although I
met with repeated disappointments, I never left off expecting your
arrival. By this time I had saved about two hundred dollars, and whether
it became known, or whether the scarcity of females brought me into
such consideration, I do not know; but scarcely a day passed without my
receiving an offer of marriage."
"An offer of marriage!" exclaimed Ardent in surprise.
"Yes, dear Ardent," replied Optima. "The men seemed frantic after me. I
was not safe any where. If I went to pay a bill, it was sure to conclude
on the part of the tradesman with an offer of his hand and heart. If I
entered the market, no sooner had I made a purchase than I received a
proposal. I was besieged in all hours and at all places,--I may almost
say that I received a new suitor at the corner of every street. It was
in vain I told them I was married, and showed them my wedding ring. They
saw that I had no husband with me, and they were desirous of supplying
his place; and men even of a superior rank continually plagued me with
their proposals. It is scarcely necessary to say that I gave them all
a negative answer; but these were things that they did not appear to
understand, for the more frequently I refused, the more frequently they
again proposed. At last I was obliged to state how I was situated to the
lady with whom I was staying, and she spoke to her husband; and he took
measures that put an end to the persecution. And now, dear Ardent, that
my anticipations are realised, we will be so very happy--won't we?"
It is easier to imagine what was the answer than to describe it. It is
sufficient to say that Oriel Porphyry made a considerable addition to
the two hundred dollars which the devoted Optima had saved, that enabled
the young couple to take a promising farm up the country, with every
prospect of enjoying a life of continued happiness.
"It is very strange," remarked the young merchant to Zabra on his return
to the ship, "it is very strange that I have had no communication from
my father. I expected one at Athenia, but I received no intelligence. I
expected one at Constantinople--there I met with the same result; and I
then made sure of meeting with one at New Sydney, but was there equally
unsuccessful. It makes me very uneasy."
"Possibly he may have nothing of importance to write about," replied
Zabra. "Things at Columbia may remain in the same state as at his last
despatch."
"I doubt it. I doubt that the emperor will remain satisfied with his
prerogatives curtailed to the extent to which they have lately been
reduced," said Oriel Porphyry. "There is no sincerity in these men. They
will break any compact when it suits their convenience. They have no
notion of either honour or honesty: and the emperor is a weak, vain,
foolish man, proud, tyrannical, and deceitful. Such a man must be ever
scheming to regain his former power; and if he think it be practicable
he will not be particular as to the means he will employ for that
purpose. I am much afraid my father has fallen a sacrifice to his
patriotism."
"It cannot be," observed his companion. "They would not dare harm him."
"Dare!" echoed his patron. "What evil will not bad men dare? And did not
that proud upstart Philadelphia load his honourable limbs with chains
and thrust him into a loathsome dungeon to die the lingering death of
starvation? He dared do that, and I doubt much whether a worse villainy
could have been perpetrated. I hope to live to see the time when I shall
have an opportunity of bringing him to an account for these and other
atrocities. If my good sword be true, and my arm has lost none of its
power, I'll not leave his worthless body till I have relieved it of his
equally worthless soul."
"What!" exclaimed Zabra, with considerable excitement, "would you be
thus revengeful to the father of Eureka? You too, who a short time
since seemed ready to forgive him all his errors on account of his
relationship to her. What has changed you? Why would you follow the bad
examples of bad men? That he is not what he should be is too true; but
that is no reason why you should become his executioner. Do you think
that Eureka could regard you with affection when you came to her
stained with her father's blood? I am surprised that you should have
given utterance to such a sentiment."
"I knew not till lately the atrocities he had committed, and the savage
disposition he possessed," replied the young merchant; "and I can see no
more harm in killing such a monster than there is in destroying a mad
beast."
"How different then your feelings must be to those of your father,"
observed the other. "He knew what was due to humanity, and practised it,
and he was the person best entitled to call for vengeance, but he was
satisfied with justice. Professing the regard you do towards Eureka,
nothing could surprise me more than to hear you proclaim so inhuman a
wish."
"It is impossible for me to help feeling exasperated against him," said
Oriel. "Imagine for a moment yourself in my situation. Let your father
be as mine is, the kindest and noblest of his species; know that he who
never did harm to any living creature, but sought to create happiness
throughout the world--was fettered and reviled, and left lingering in
filth and darkness for three days, enduring all the pangs of famine;
and if you have a heart within your breast, and a soul that hates the
cowardly vices of despotism, you will feel as I do, and long for an
opportunity to punish your father's persecutor, in a manner worthy of
his crimes. I know that your relationship to the offender must stand in
the way of your seeing the justice of the punishment I would inflict:
but I am no hypocrite Zabra. I cannot disguise my detestation of such a
monster; and although next to Eureka and my father I honour you, even
your opposition would not make me change a sentiment so natural and
appropriate."
"Leave Philadelphia to his own feelings, which sooner or later will be
sufficient punishment," responded Zabra. "Touch him not if you value
the love of Eureka. She I know has little cause to feel much affection
for him, but bad as he is she never can be brought to look upon his
destroyer with any feeling save that of repugnance."
"If that be the case I hope he will keep out of my way," rejoined the
young merchant; "for I think I could endure anything rather than her
dislike; but the absence of intelligence from my father has certainly
made me suspicious. I am almost determined to return to Columbia without
proceeding to England."
"I do not think such a course advisable, Oriel," observed Zabra. "There
may be a thousand things that prevent your father's correspondence, or
he may have written, and the despatches may have been lost. If this be
the case, and there is a great probability that it is, he would be very
much vexed at your returning without having accomplished your voyage."
"Well, I will proceed, but I will only make a brief stay among the
antiquities of England, and then steer direct for Columbia," replied
Oriel Porphyry: "I have very strong doubts about things being exactly
right there. The accounts I have heard are of a contrary tendency; but
if the storm is to be, it will come unexpected. If any attempt be made
by the government to restore the old order of things, I hope they will
have the goodness to wait till my return before they commence their
proceedings. There is a powerful regiment of horse, composed of the
young citizens of Columbus, of which I have the command; I believe that
they are devoted to my will; and even with these, although they are not
above a thousand strong, I would make such a stand as would soon bring
around me all the brave spirits in the country: I only wish for an
opportunity to try the experiment."
"Will you never dismiss these delusive visions," said his young friend,
anxiously. "I thought that you were at last becoming reconciled to a
more useful and amiable way of life."
"You have been deceived, Zabra," observed Oriel; "I have been more
quiet, but not less ambitious. This passion for glory has become a part
of my nature; it is with me at all times. I think of it and dream of it.
It is the anticipation of finding the opportunity for greatness that
makes me able to endure the tedious inactivity of my present mode of
existence. I shall never be satisfied till I acquire the power for which
I yearn."
"What an unhappy nature yours must be then," replied Zabra. "You have
every hope of happiness within your reach; yet because it does not
come clothed in the gorgeous draperies in which you wish it to appear,
you seem desirous of dismissing it, as of not sufficient value to be
enjoyed. I had hoped that you had become wiser; I had hoped, too, that
you had been more solicitous for the happiness of Eureka. I am afraid
all my labour has been thrown away, and that I shall have to return to
her with the intelligence that your ambitious hopes have stifled every
feeling of affection."
"There you wrong me," exclaimed the young merchant, "you wrong me
exceedingly. My aspirations for greatness are never separate from my
hopes of Eureka; because the first are merely the result of the latter.
It is useless attempting to check the impulses which urge me on. I must
be what I am; and while my state of being, and the purposes which it
creates and would see fulfilled, cannot in any way dishonour Eureka,
nothing will convince me that they are to be condemned. From my own
knowledge of her character, I cannot imagine that she would regard
my efforts for advancement with the feeling which you have stated
she possesses. Her own greatness of soul must bring her to look with
commendation on another, who evinces a desire to obtain a similar
greatness: this ambition is a passion so entirely of her own creating,
that she cannot, with any justice, be displeased with its exhibition."
"How little you seem to know of the nature of her whose love you
possess," replied Zabra, in a low, tremulous voice; "no doubt, she
would feel gratified at any circumstance which would exalt you in the
estimation of your countrymen. The honour you might receive would be her
glory as much as yours, and the fame you might obtain would find none
more desirous of its security than herself. But it was not for these
things that she loved you. Ambition formed no part of the qualities that
called into existence her admiration--which, having acquired its full
growth, cannot be made more perfect by the greatness you covet; and
that admiration must continue as long as the qualities that called it
into operation exist. But knowing your desire to acquire renown, and
knowing the nature of that feeling is to swallow up all the more amiable
aspirations, and being aware that the only way to its acquirement is
through a thousand terrible dangers, she cannot help the conviction,
that she would rather possess your affection as you were, than live in
continual fear, to witness your superiority, as you may be."
"Let us say no more about it," said Oriel. "It is very evident that
neither can convince the other. I may be positive that I am going right,
and you may be positive that I am going wrong; but it is time spent to
no purpose, if we cannot be brought to change our opinions."
"Remember, I am only doing my duty," replied the youth. "I warn you,
because the path you desire to take is surrounded by dangers. If you are
determined on going on, I say, go on and prosper; but if you go on, and
fail, the bitter disappointment you will experience will not only render
yourself miserable, but must make equally unhappy her whose felicity
you appear so desirous of creating. If you must go on, Oriel, I say
again--go on, and prosper."
CHAP. III.
OLD ENGLAND.
"We are approaching the British Islands, are we not?" inquired Oriel
Porphyry.
"Yes, Sir, the land lies right ahead," replied the captain.
"There are several of these islands, I believe," added the young
merchant.
"There are a great number on 'em o' different sorts and sizes," said
Hearty; "but them as is most visited are England and Ireland."
"What is the meaning of the prefix to the word land in each of these
names?" asked Oriel of the professor.
"England or Ingle-land means the land of the fire side," replied
Fortyfolios. "Ingle is an old British word meaning the fire at which
the inhabitants of a house warmed themselves or cooked their food. The
natives have been from the earliest times, famous for their love of the
comforts of this fire, which was usually made of coal dug out of the
earth, that made a cheerful blaze in a room, and their attachment to
their ingles procured the island the name of Ingle-land, which, in
course of time was abbreviated into the name of England."
"I doubt that very much, don't you see," here observed Dr. Tourniquet;
"for in my opinion, England has a totally different derivation.
The aborigines of the island were principally fishermen, and very
appropriately had given to them the name of angle-ers, which means
people who fish. Each separate kingdom was called a kingdom of the
Angles, from the natives using an angle, and the whole island was called
Angle-land, or the land of the angle, which for shortness was soon
afterwards called England."
"'Tis nothing of the kind, Dr. Tourniquet," rejoined the professor
warmly. "I wonder you should have started such an absurd idea."
"It is quite as reasonable as yours at any rate, don't you see,"
remarked the doctor.
"It has no such pretension," said the other in a decided manner. "I
can prove that the fire or ingle was a national characteristic of the
people."
"And I can prove that fishing or angle-ing was a national characteristic
of the people," added his antagonist.
"Pooh!" exclaimed one, contemptuously.
"Pish!" cried the other.
"Ingle-land,"--resumed the professor.
"Angle-land,"--said the doctor, interrupting him.
"Now, Dr. Tourniquet, I beg I may not be interrupted by your ridiculous
blunders," observed Fortyfolios with considerable asperity, and a look
of dignity peculiar to himself.
"The blunder is on your side, don't you see," replied the surgeon, with
a chuckle of satisfaction exceedingly annoying to his companion.
"Never mind if it be Ingle-land or Angle-land," exclaimed Oriel
Porphyry. "All we know for certain is, that it is now called England.
But how do you account for the adoption of the other name?"
"Of the derivation of that word there can be no doubt--it explains
itself," said Fortyfolios. "Ireland means the land of ire. The natives
from time immemorial have been known to be excessively irascible. They
would quarrel upon the slightest cause, and fight from no cause at all.
They would fight when they were hungry, upon which occasion, as was very
natural, they fought for a belly-full. They would fight for liquor; they
would fight for fun; they would fight for love; they would fight to get
drunk, and then fight to get sober. The happiest men among them were
those who were most frequently beaten, and such persons were known to be
the best friends as were continually trying to knock out each other's
brains. These men consequently got the appropriate name of Ire-ishmen,
and the island was called Ire-land."
"There you're wrong again, don't you see," observed Tourniquet. "The
name Ire-land was derived from Higher-land, to express that the country
was more elevated in the estimation of the natives than any other part
of the globe. They entertained the most preposterous ideas about the
importance of their island. They stated that when the rest of the world
was sunk in barbarism, their Higher-land was the seat of intelligence,
and virtue, and superior bravery. They asserted that their soldiers
were the only soldiers that ever existed, and that their agricultural
labourers were 'the finest pisantry in the world.' But there was
certainly something very singular about them; and even their
brick-layers' labourers were odd men. The island was also called by the
natives The Emerald Island, I believe because it sometimes produced
Irish diamonds. The Green Isle was another of its names--and this was
derived from the greenness of the people. The men went by the name of
'the boys' long after the age at which other boys became men; and even
the oldest of the old men among them, when he breathed his last, was
said to die in a green old age."
"It is extraordinary to me, Dr. Tourniquet, that you will give utterance
to such fallacies," remarked the professor. "The facts are exactly as I
have stated them."
"The facts are exactly as I have stated them," said the other with
marked emphasis.
"Was there not a very celebrated character styled St. Patrick, who
flourished at one time among the Irish?" inquired the young merchant.
"Certainly there was," replied Fortyfolios. "Patrick, Pater Rick--or
Rick being the abbreviation of Richard--Father Richard, was a poor
monk----"
"That I deny!" eagerly exclaimed the doctor. "For, as it is stated in a
very ancient poem I have met with,
'St. Patrick was a gintleman
And born of dacent paple.'"
"That is no authority," resumed Fortyfolios. "I affirm that he was a
poor monk and----"
"I maintain that he was a gentleman," replied the other.
"I insist that you do not interrupt me, Dr. Tourniquet," exclaimed the
professor angrily. "He was an exceedingly pious and virtuous man,
and by his example and precepts did a great deal of good among his
countrymen."
"Yes," said the surgeon, gravely, "I have met with an authority that
says
'He gave the frogs and toads a twist,
And banished all the varmint.'
Now the usual reading of this couplet is that he drove the frogs and
toads out of the country; but if we look to the meaning of the word
twist, we shall find that it means an appetite: a man with a twist means
a man with a certain facility in swallowing anything eatable that comes
before him; and as we know that frogs at one time were considered a
great delicacy by the ancients, it is not unreasonable to imagine that
St. Patrick was a great epicure, and swallowed all the frogs and toads
in the island."
"Preposterous!" exclaimed Fortyfolios; "he was a saint whose prayers
had the efficacy of ridding the country of every venomous thing it
contained. But there is a remarkable legend connected with his history,
which I will relate to you as I found it in a very ancient poem
preserved in the Columbian Museum. It appears that he was one fast day
on a visit at a house, and he desired dinner might be brought to him;
but the family having already dined there was no fish, the usual food
for fast days, for his meal; in fact there was nothing eatable in the
larder but a leg of mutton. With great regret the people of the house
acquainted him with the real state of the case: but the good saint, with
a benevolent smile, as the poet describes, merely said,
'Send my compliments down to the leg
And bid it come hither a salmon.'"
"And what was the result?" inquired Oriel.
"To use the simple and expressive words of the poem," replied the
professor, with his usual gravity,
"'And the leg most politely complied.'"
"You see those white cliffs just beginning to show 'emselves," said the
captain, pointing to the distant coast.
"I see them plainly," replied the young merchant.
"That's the coast of England, Sir," added Hearty. Oriel Porphyry gazed
on the classic shores that were rising before him with a deep and
peculiar interest. He had read so much, and he had heard so much of the
glory of the country he was approaching, and of the greatness of her
people, that the first sight of land awakened in him the most agreeable
associations. He thought of the splendour of her achievements--he
thought of the magnificence of her power--he thought of her illustrious
men--he thought of her noble efforts in the advance of intelligence--and
the white cliff upon which he was gazing appeared to him to be the most
interesting portion of the world.
"The appearance of the shore from the sea at one time conferred
on England the name of Albion," said the professor. "From _Alba_
white--from which word many other names were derived, particularly
_album_--a white book in great request at one time among the females of
the island, to teach them the art of spoiling paper for the benefit of
the stationers--and _albumen_, the white of an egg, a sort of food in
great request with the chicken-hearted. Some of the natives of Albion
carried their attachment to the name so far that they lived in a place
which they designated _the Albany_, and had a favourite place of resort
which they called 'Whites.' There was also a certain building situated
in _White_ Cross Street, to which they proceeded, to show their
nationality, by getting _white_-washed. The females were remarkable for
a partiality to white bread, white wine, and white linen, and the males
evinced an equal fondness for white bait, white waistcoats, and white
hands, and to such an extent did this favouritism for a particular
colour extend, that there was a neighbouring island, called the Isle of
White, to which the inhabitants of Albion made occasional journeys, for
the pleasure of destroying white ducks, or white muslin: and it was
usual for every generation to be christened in white, to be married in
white, and to be buried in white."
"What are these vessels approaching us in this threatening manner,"
inquired Oriel Porphyry, as he noticed several old crazy-looking boats
filled with men who were coming towards them with their crews, howling,
screeching, and yelling with all the strength of their lungs.
"I do not think they mean us any good," replied the captain: then
turning to some of the sailors standing scrutinising the appearance of
a strange fleet, evidently bearing down upon them, he exclaimed, "Get
the long gun ready, and give these fools a taste of grape if they
attempt to attack us."
"Ay, ay! Sir," replied one of the men; and every disposition was made
to repel any assault that might be attempted.
As they approached nearer, it was observed that these vessels were a
vast number of large open boats, some with sails, but most without,
and they were so crammed with men, that many of them were in danger
of sinking every minute. Their crews were clothed in ragged vestments
of every colour and description, and they were armed with old swords,
pistols, guns, pitchforks, and bludgeons, and these they displayed as
they advanced, shouting all the time in wild savage tones perfectly
deafening. A larger boat was in advance of the others, and in a
conspicuous situation in this vessel stood up a tall fierce-looking
man with his head bound round with a hay-band, and a tattered blanket
dropping from his shoulders. He brandished a rusty sword as he
approached, and gave orders to those who followed, which appeared to
meet with implicit obedience. When he came within gun-shot of the
Albatross, he turned round to his followers and addressed them.
"Boys," said he, pointing to the ship, "yonder's the furreners. It's
meself as 'ill take their big baste iv a ship if ye'll be all to the
fore. Divle a care ye may take ov their darty guns that their pointing
at yese--its made ov wood they are, and sorrow a harm they can do, bad
luck to 'em. Keep your powther dry, boys, and look to your flints, and
iv we don't kill and murther and throttle every mother's son ov 'em,
I'm not King Teddy O'Riley."
"Sheer off there, you ragamuffins," shouted the captain through a
speaking trumpet. "Sheer off, or I'll sink ev'ry soul of ye within
gun-range."
"Down wid the darty furreners!" screamed King Teddy O'Riley; a shower of
balls whistled past the captain, and on came the over-loaded boats, with
their crews yelling in the most frantic manner. There appeared to be at
least five or six hundred of them, and it was judged expedient to put
an immediate stop to their progress. The long gun was discharged, which
sunk the foremost boat, and killed the greater portion of its crew. The
rest hesitated when they beheld their monarch swept into the sea; and
a well-directed fire of musketry made them glad enough to commence a
retreat as fast as they could, screaming in hideous chorus as long as
they could be heard.
"Take a boat and see if you can save any of those rascals sprawling in
the water," exclaimed the captain to the midshipman Loop.
"Yes, Sir," was the reply; and the boat having been lowered, a party
proceeded to pick up the wounded and drowning. They succeeded in saving
several, among whom was their illustrious leader, King Teddy O'Riley,
who was brought upon deck, looking very much deprived of his dignity,
his coronet of hay-bands wet and dirty, and his blanket of state shrunk
out of all shape. He created considerable surprise among his captors,
and not without sufficient cause, for nothing could exceed the
eccentricity of his appearance. His hair was thick and long, and of a
dark-red colour. Large, bushy whiskers of the same tint surrounded his
cheeks. His nose was remarkably red, and his face seamed with the marks
of the small-pox. Below his cloak was a long coat, which did not appear
the more royal for being out at the elbows, and for having lost half its
skirt. His lower garments hung upon him like a bag, and they had the
legs rolled back up to the knees. A pair of old boots, exceedingly down
at heel, out of which the toes of his majesty were seen to peep in
spite of the straw with which they were lined, completed his costume.
"And who the deuce are you?" demanded the captain, after he had
sufficiently scrutinised the appearance of his prisoner.
"Faix and isn't it King Teddy O'Riley I am?" replied the man.
"And what part o' the world are you king of, I should like to know?"
asked Hearty in considerable surprise.
"Faix and ain't I king ov Blatherumskite?" said the other.
"And where, in the name o' all that's wonderful, is Blatherumskite?"
inquired the captain.
"And is it yourself that doesn't know where Blatherumskite is?"
exclaimed his majesty in seeming wonder. "Well the ignorance o' some
people is amazin! Not know Blatherumskite! Be the holy japers that bates
Bannagher, and Bannagher bate the divle. And Blatherumskite sich a jewel
ov a place! Why Blatherumskite's the finest kingdom and has the finest
paple under the sun. It's full ov commodities ov all sorts. It dales in
turpentine, brickdust, soft soap, and other swate mates--tracle, and
train oil, pepper and salt, and other hardware,--pigs, buttermilk,
paraties, and other kumbustibles. Not know Blatherumskite indade! Be
this and be that, you're as ignorant as a born brute."
"And what induced you to fire at me, Mr. King Teddy O'Riley?" demanded
the captain.
"Faix and wasn't it only just to kill ye we fired at ye?" replied the
king, with the utmost simplicity.
"It was, was it?" exclaimed Hearty; "and for what reason did you attack
the ship?"
"Wid no other rason in life than to take it," responded his majesty. "I
was jist a lading the boys to make a decint on England, wid the hope ov
being able to pick up a few thrifles, when we seed your ship. 'The top
ov the morning to ye,' says I, 'and if I don't be afther ransacking ye
intirely small blame to me there'll be.' And then we pulled away at the
divle's own rate, and a mighty dale ov divarsion the boys had about what
they'd do wid the big ship when they'd got her, when widout wid your
lave or by your lave, I was regularly kilt, smashed, and smothered into
the wather. And here I am."
"Well, King Teddy O'Riley, we must be under the necessity of hanging
you," observed the captain.
"Hang me!" shouted the man, in perfect amazement. "Hang a king!--hang
King Teddy O'Riley? Hang the King ov Blatherumskite? Why its rank
trason? Ye'll not be afther thinkin ov doin sich a rebellious action. I
shall feel obliged to ye if ye wont mintion it."
"And what would you have done with us if you had succeeded in your
ridiculous idea of taking the ship?" inquired Hearty.
"Faix and wouldn't we have kilt every sowl of yese, and taken the rest
prisoners?" replied his majesty.
"Then we cannot do better than follow your example," observed the
captain; then turning to some of his men, who appeared to enjoy the
scene with particular satisfaction, he exclaimed, "Get a rope ready at
the fore-yard arm that we may hang this fellow!" The sailors with great
alacrity made the necessary preparations.
"Be all the holy saints betwixt this and no where, ye'll not be
afther taking away the life ov a poor king!" exclaimed his majesty of
Blatherumskite, with the greatest earnestness and alarm. "What'll I do
now? Sure and I'm in a bad way! Sure and I'll be done for intirely! And
is it to be hanged I am?" continued he, looking woefully at the rope
that was dangling ready for immediate use. "Is King Teddy O'Riley
to be kilt afther sich a villainous fashion? Oh what a disgrace for
Blatherumskite! What a dishonour to a king. Oh what 'ill I do--what 'ill
I do?"
"Is the rope ready?" inquired Hearty.
"All right, Sir," said the boatswain.
"Then hoist him up," replied the captain. The men proceeded to fulfil
the command of their officer.
"Oh it's in a pretty way I am!" exclaimed the unfortunate monarch, with
tears in his eyes. "Be the holy japers, wouldn't I change places wid
any body as would like to be hanged in my place. It's yourself, Murphy
O'Blarney, that's the good subject," said the king, addressing one of
his companions with particular and impressive emphasis. "Sure, and ye've
got more pathriotism than to let the King ov Blatherumskite be hanged,
when it's your own loyal neck as would fit the rope so azy." Murphy
O'Blarney did not seem to hear. "Bad luck to the likes ov yese for
a thraitor," murmured his majesty. Then, turning to another of his
subjects, he said, "Larry Brogues, it's great confidence I place in
ye--ye're a jewel ov a man intirely; and if ye 'ill jist be afther doing
me the thrifling favour ov being hanged in my place, the best pig I have
shall be your's." Larry appeared as if he had lost all relish for pork.
"I always said ye were a base ribbel!" muttered the angry monarch,
turning from him to address a third. "Mick Killarney, a sinsible boy
you've showed yerself afore to-day, and little's the praise I take to
meself for not having rewarded ye according to your desarts; but if
ye'll show your superior desarnment, by letting the little bit ov a
rope be placed round your neck instead ov mine, it's meself that 'ill
make a man ov ye when I get back to Blatherumskite." Mick Killarney
turned the only eye he had in his head, to another part of the ship.
"There's more brains in the tail of a dead pig, than 'ill ever come
out ov yer thick skull, ye villain!" exclaimed King Teddy O'Riley in a
thundering rage: then he looked very pathetic, wiped his eyes with a
corner of his blanket, and began to chant, in the most miserable tones,
the following words:--
"Who'll bile the paraties and pale 'em and ate 'em!
Who'll drink all the butthermilk I used to swallow!
Who'll hand round the whiskey, and take his own share too
Wid mighty convanience.
"Oh Teddy O'Riley your reign's put a stop to,
Small blame to your sowl! you're a king now no longer,
You're smashed all to smothers, and dished up and done for
In a way most amazin.
"Not brave Alexander, or Nebuchadnezzar,
Who went out to grass wid the rest ov the cattle,
Not Moses, or Boney, nor yet Cleopatra,
Were treated so vilely.
"Its meself that is up to me eyes in amazement
To see you desaved and surrounded by villains,
Who are wantin to place your poor neck in a halter
Bad luck to their mothers!
"Is it rope you're desirin? the divle a ha'porth.
Is it hanged that you would be? not me then by Japers,
Oh! there's sinse and there's rason in your own way ov thinkin,
You're cliver intirely.
"But sorrow a hope have ye got to indulge in,
For there hangs the rope like a murtherin blaguard,
Wid a knot at one end, and a noose at the other.
Oh what 'ill I do now?"
Oriel Porphyry, who had laughed exceedingly at the whole scene, now
stepped forward, and, by his interference, saved his majesty's life.
"I always thought that Ireland formed a portion of the British
dominions," observed the young merchant.
"So it did," replied Fortyfolios, "and enjoyed an unexampled state of
prosperity; but the people were always dissatisfied and unreasonable;
and were ever accusing the government of the country by which they were
ruled of creating that social disorganisation which was the effect
of their own evil habits--and which had existed, as may be proved by
a reference to their own annals, as far back as it was possible to
refer--and, upon the first opportunity, they threw off their allegiance
to the British empire, and became, as they had previously been, a
separate kingdom. As might have been expected, internal strife now
appeared. As had formerly been the case, the country was cut up into a
party of petty monarchies, that were continually at war with each other.
These having gradually become smaller and more numerous, there is now a
king to every potato-garden, of which class of monarchs his majesty of
Blatherumskite is an example; and when these fellows are not striving
to exterminate each other, they make piratical excursions to the
neighbouring coast, and there create all the mischief in their power,
by robbing, plundering, killing, and burning."
"We are entering the Nore, now Sir," remarked the captain.
"The derivation of the word is exceedingly puzzling," remarked the
professor, "and I have met with no explanation that has satisfied me.
Some antiquarians trace it to Noah, but they bring forward nothing which
can be relied on in proof of this idea. I must say it is my opinion
that Noah was never in this part of the world. Others ascribe it to
the frequent use of the words 'Know her,'--as parties of pleasure used
frequently to start in steam-boats from the metropolis to this place,
and then return; and intimacies between the young males and the young
females who had never met previously, used to spring up during this
excursion, and the former used to reply when they were asked if they
knew an individual of the other sex, 'Know her? we met going towards the
sea,' and the words at last became so common that it gave name to the
place."
"You're wrong again, don't you see!" exclaimed the doctor. "But I'll
tell you how the place came by the name. In very ancient times a company
of individuals created a joint-stock association to work a copper mine
of great value which they said had been discovered on the neighbouring
coast, and the people, deluded by the great anticipations held out by
the schemers, invested large sums in the affair. The shaft was sunk and
the mine worked, and the anxious citizens were every day coming down in
crowds to learn the progress of the mine, but they invariably met with
one answer to all their queries, which was 'No Ore;' and this lasted
till the bubble burst. Since then the place was called 'No Ore,' which
ultimately dwindled into 'Nore.'"
"Preposterous!" cried Fortyfolios. "I wonder you can repeat such a
ridiculous conception."
"I'm positive that my 'No ore' is as good as your 'Noah' or 'Know her,'
don't you see," replied the doctor, good humouredly.
"Nothing of the kind, Dr. Tourniquet," said the other very gravely. "My
derivations are founded on well ascertained facts."
"And my derivation is founded on better ascertained facts," added the
surgeon.
"The coast here seems quite deserted," observed Oriel Porphyry. "I
do not see a habitation--nor a human creature--nor any species of
vessel--nor any sign of life whatever."
"Possibly the natives have deserted this part of the coast from its
liability to be visited by the Irish pirates," replied the professor.
"But what a change there must have been in the appearance of this
neighbourhood a few centuries back! Then vessels of every size and
nation might have been seen sailing in almost countless numbers down the
river to the Port of London, which was the mart of the world. Merchant
ships and ships of war, colliers, fishing-vessels, passage-boats and
pleasure-yachts were passing and re-passing each other at all hours of
the day. Then these masses of ruins which you are passing on each side
of the river, were filled with busy inhabitants engaged in the various
labours of traffic. Here ships were built, fitted out, victualled, and
stored, and when manned with a gallant crew, set sail to visit every
quarter of the globe, to dispose of their cargoes and to bring home the
produce of other countries. There was a battery to prevent the passage
of the enemy's ships in time of war. A little further on we come to a
fashionable watering place, in which the tired citizens forgot the toils
of business in the pursuit of pleasure. Towns and villages existed on
either side; some of considerable importance, with a numerous population
engaged in every species of manufacture and of laborious employment."
"The country possesses a most desolate appearance," remarked Zabra.
"The natural effect of the cause which produced it," responded the
professor. "Here all the horrors of war have been exhibited on the most
comprehensive scale, and what warfare left untouched time has since
destroyed. Nothing meets the eye but blackened buildings and tottering
walls. The country is a wilderness--the town a desert. A little time
since all was busy--all was fertile; and every nook and corner resounded
with the stir of the artisan at his craft, and the mirth of the idler at
his pleasure."
"What part of the island was this called?" inquired Oriel.
"These are the shores of Kent, so called from the ancient word Kenned,
known or famous," replied Fortyfolios. "It was called the garden of
England, and, if the accounts which describe it are to be depended on,
well did it deserve the title. It was one continued field of fruit, and
flowers, and grain. Forests of magnificent timber afforded materials for
the carpenter and the ship-builder--plantations of hops gave employment
to the cultivators, the merchants, and the brewers of malt liquors; and
orchards of cherries were in constant demand from one end of the island
to the other. Now the timber has either been cut down, or died of
natural decay--the hop gardens have given place to crops of luxuriant
weeds--and the sweet and luscious fruits have become wild and sour."
"Here is an extensive collection of ruins on the left--and it seems once
to have been an important place," observed the young merchant.
"It was so," said the professor. "There were the public dockyards, the
arsenal, a college for the education of youth to the profession of
war, manufactures on the most extensive scale of materials employed in
fitting out ships for the war or merchant service, and conveniences for
traffic or accumulation of all sorts of naval and military stores. There
were foundries for cannon--manufactories of cordage, shot, nails, and
ship biscuit--magazines for the safe deposit of gunpowder--yards for
ship-building, and warehouses for apparel: now you see nothing but the
bare walls rising up from the mass of ruins of which they are a portion.
In solitude the wild dog howls where all was human life and industry;
and with the boldness of long indulgence, the bats congregate in the
chambers of the merchants."
"Here are the remains of a more stately structure than any we have
hitherto passed--was it a palace?" inquired Oriel Porphyry.
"It was nothing more than a hospital for poor sailors, such as had been
maimed in the service of their country," replied Fortyfolios.
"Indeed!" exclaimed the young merchant, with considerable surprise.
"Nothing else, I assure you," added his tutor.
"The government were remarkably attentive to the wants of their seamen
then--they must have valued their services very high to have lodged them
in so sumptuous a building as this appears to have been," observed
Oriel.
"Their dwelling was at one time far more magnificent than the palace of
the King of England," continued the professor. "There was no edifice
erected for such a purpose to equal it in the whole world. There the
wounded sailor passed the rest of his life enjoying every comfort he
required. He had the range of a magnificent mansion, and an extensive
and beautiful park. Proper officers watched over his health, his diet
was strengthening and plentiful, and under the care of good and pious
men his moral wants were equally well attended to. In another part of
the river there used to be a building of similar extent that had been
erected for poor and wounded soldiers, and they were provided for in a
manner equally generous and considerate."
"These people were distinguished for their charities, I believe,"
remarked the young merchant.
"They were," replied Fortyfolios. "They had numberless hospitals in
which the poor, afflicted with disease, or hurt by accidents, were
promptly cared for, and skilfully treated. The ablest physicians, the
most experienced surgeons, and the most skilful nurses waited upon them;
and all that the necessities of their cases demanded was immediately
rendered. They had asylums for females who had strayed from the path of
virtue, where they were taught industrious and moral habits, and then
restored to society capable of taking a place with its most useful and
honourable members. They had houses of instruction to reclaim young
thieves, in which they received an excellent education, were taught
some useful trade, and then re-entered the community capable of passing
through the busy scenes of life with credit to themselves and others.
They had----."
"They had hospitals and asylums for every vice that disgraces humanity,
don't you see," said the doctor, interrupting the speaker with more
bitterness than was usual with him. "The vilest of the vile were
sheltered and preached to, and made comfortable and happy; but while
vice received every possible attention in fine buildings, with numerous
servants, virtue might crawl through the public streets and starve;
and while the rogue was carefully instructed in all things that were
excellent to save his wretched life and soul, the honest man, struggling
with adversity and sickness, was left to die and be damned. There was no
asylum for the virtuous woman; but the vilest prostitute had always a
ready home. Integrity and intelligence had to fight with famine alone
and unnoticed; but ignorance and dishonesty, profligacy and crime, were
sought after and generously provided for. In fact, under this miserable
state of things there existed a bonus upon vice. If the vile were
only vile enough, they were the objects of universal benevolence:
but to be poor without being vile--oh! it was considered something so
contemptible, that the charitable could not be brought to pay it the
slightest regard."
For a wonder Fortyfolios made no reply.
"This place is also of considerable importance to the scientific
inquirer," continued the professor; "for here was a famous observatory,
in which the most illustrious astronomers carried on their
investigations into the motions of the heavenly bodies, and the laws
which govern them. Many interesting discoveries were here made. From
here were calculated the distances of various parts of the world. The
neighbourhood was also distinguished by being a place of favorite resort
of the inhabitants of the metropolis; and even members of the government
used to indulge themselves occasionally with a trip to this once
delightful place, for the purpose of enjoying a delicacy in the shape of
a very small fish, a thousand of which would scarcely make a sufficient
meal."
"Here are many heaps of stones and fragments of brickwork. I should
suppose that they are the remains of a town of some kind," observed the
young merchant.
"They cover a space sufficiently extensive to make it probable," replied
Fortyfolios; "but they ought to be considered as a distant suburb of
the metropolis. They were chiefly inhabited by persons engaged in the
production or sale of naval stores, and boat-builders, fishermen, and
sailors employed in managing the craft upon the river. In some places
there are wharves for merchandise, in others for coals; here was a
factory for the produce of canvass, there an establishment of engineers
who sent steam vessels to every sea that flows. The river here used to
be crowded with shipping; so much so that the passage of the vessels
often became slow and dangerous. Here were ships from every commercial
nation on the globe, each laden with the produce of their country, and
each intent on returning with a cargo of English goods."
"What a gloomy looking building this must have been, if we may judge
from what remains of it!" remarked Zabra.
"That used to be a fortress and state prison," said the Professor.
"There were once confined persons accused of treason, and there they
remained previous to their execution. Some of the noblest and best
spirits of the time have been incarcerated in those old walls. The noble
Raleigh, the patriot Russell, the lovely Anna Boleyn, and numberless
others whose names have become a part of history. There also were kept
the regalia and--."
"And there also were kept the wild beasts," observed the doctor, good
humouredly, "and there is every reason for believing that the latter
managed to get at the regalia; for an ancient poem I have met with
says--
"The lion and the unicorn
Were fighting for the crown,
And the lion beat the unicorn
All about the town"--
no doubt to the great astonishment of the citizens."
"I am going to anchor now, sir," here exclaimed the captain, "as the
navigation o' the river beyond this arn't practicable for a vessel o'
such tonnage as the Albatross."
"Let it be done then," replied the young merchant; "and let an armed
party be got ready to accompany me on land, as I am desirous of
examining the antiquities of the place."
"Yes, sir," responded Hearty; and preparations were immediately made to
go ashore.
"You see before you the remains of a bridge," observed Fortyfolios,
pointing to several broken arches that appeared above the water; "it was
considered one of the finest examples of that kind of structure that
had ever been erected, and an old chronicler I lately perused gives an
elaborate account of the ceremonies that took place when it was first
opened to the public. On that occasion the king and queen went in state,
accompanied by their court, and all the great men were there, and the
great merchants, and thousands upon thousands of citizens. Now you
can behold nothing but the crumbling stone-work, green with age, and
instead of the music and shouts which accompanied the procession, we can
only hear the hoarse cry of the bittern from the neighbouring marshes,
and the fierce howl of the jackal from some ruined building."
"The boat's ready, sir!" said the captain; and shortly afterwards the
whole party proceeded in a boat to the shore.
CHAP. IV.
THE LAST OF THE ENGLISHMEN.
A large tent had been pitched in an open space among the ruins of the
ancient city. Before it stood Oriel Porphyry leaning on a gun, with
Zabra at his side, resting on his harp. At the distance of a few feet
Fortyfolios and Tourniquet were seated on a fallen pillar, disputing
about the character of a building, the remains of which lay before them.
The captain and the midshipman were conversing together by the side
of the tent, and grouped about were twenty or thirty sailors well
armed--some reclining on the ground, others leaning against a column,
and the rest congregated into little parties, engaged in talking over
the adventures of the day, or in passing their opinions upon the
neighbouring ruins.
On one side of the tent stood a great portion of a very elegant
structure, of considerable dimensions, and of a classical style of
architecture; on the other side stood the ruins of a building of about
the same size, with a handsome portico supported by several beautiful
pillars, upon which might be observed a female draperied figure much
mutilated. A short distance from between them there arose a tall column
with a bronze statue of a warrior, broken and disfigured, lying at its
base. Beyond the column was a flight of broken steps that led to an open
space overgrown with wild shrubs and weeds; and beyond these, and around
in every direction, nothing met the eye but confused heaps of stone and
brickwork, overgrown with rank herbage; and pillars, and walls, and
glassless windows.
"I am tired of this continual ruin," exclaimed Oriel Porphyry. "We
have travelled all the day and met nothing but broken pedestals, and
prostrate capitals; porches without pillars, and pillars without
porches; trembling porticoes, tottering walls, and roofless dwellings.
I never witnessed such a perfect desolation. The only living thing I
have seen was a wolf, who stared at me as if quite unused to a human
countenance, and never attempted to move till I sent the contents of my
gun at his head. Then, immediately I had fired, there flew around me
such flights of bats, ravens, vultures, and owls, and they created such
a din of screaming and hooting, that I was absolutely startled."
"See how the ivy clings to the wall, Oriel!" said Zabra to his patron,
as he pointed to a ruin beside them; "how it twines round the fluted
pillar, and hides the ornaments of the richly decorated capital. There
is poetry astir in those leaves--there is a music breathing in the
breeze that shakes them. There! see you the bird moving out its head
from their friendly shelter to notice our movements? She has her nest
there, Oriel: in that little circle are all her pleasures concentrated.
She has made her happiness in the very desolation of which you complain.
It is impossible to look around and say all is barren. There is not a
weed that grows but what is full of enjoyment for myriads of creatures
of which we take no note. Is there nothing in these stones which does
not awaken in you associations that ought to people them with the
countless multitudes that once found pleasure in this wilderness? I see
not the ruin. I notice not the silence. Memory looks through the vista
of departed time, and lo! all is splendour and beauty--and the deserted
porticoes echo with the voice of gladness. Let me sing to you, Oriel;
this is a glorious place for sweet sounds and antique memories, and I
will see to what use I can apply them."
The young musician, after a short, touching prelude, then sung, with the
deep expression that characterised all his attempts at minstrelsy, the
following words:--
"To the home of the brave ones, the true and the kind,
With a heart filled with hope I have been;
And I thought of the gladness and peace I should find,
And the smiles of delight I had seen.
"But the dwelling was homeless, and roofless, and bare,
'Twas a ruin that threatened to fall;
And my sorrowing heart seemed to cling to despair,
Like the ivy that clung to the wall.
"Oh! where are the roses that clustered and spread
Round the porch where my wishes were told?
Alas! from the porch all the roses have fled,
And the hands that once plucked them are cold.
"Oh! where are the friends, the young, thoughtless, and gay,
Who gave life to the garden and hall?
All, all have departed--all, all passed away,
Save the ivy that clings to the wall.
"Be glad, my fond heart--there is hope for you yet,
For these leaves have a comfort convey'd;
There are moments and pleasures I ne'er can forget,
Though both roses and friends have decayed.
"Though this breast be a ruin where sorrow hath cast
Desolations she cannot recal;
Still mem'ry shall cling to the joys that are past,
Like the ivy that clings to the wall."
"I tell you, Dr. Tourniquet, you're completely in error," exclaimed
Fortyfolios. "The meaning of the word United Service is evident, and
admits of no dispute. In old authors we frequently read of people 'going
to service,' and as often of a union of offices in the same person,
such as butler and steward, valet and footman, gardener and groom; and
there cannot be a doubt that this is what was called united service, and
that this building was dedicated to the purpose of finding situations
for such people."
"Dedicated to a fiddle-stick. Don't you see?" replied the doctor. "I
tell you it was a club that met there to play at cards, and that was the
reason that they had a king of clubs, and a queen of clubs, and a knave
of clubs, and ever so many other clubs; and as a qualification, all the
members were obliged to be club-footed, and they were governed by what
they called club law."
"'T was no such thing, Dr. Tourniquet, depend upon it," said the
professor. "I'm sure 't was the united service, because I have a book
in my library that mentions it as the United Service."
"And I'm sure it was a club, because I've got a book in my library that
mentions it as a club," responded the other.
"Then the building opposite was devoted to very different purposes,"
continued Fortyfolios. "It was called the Athenæum, the derivation of
which word I have never been able to discover. Perhaps it had its origin
in the Modern Athens, a place of some importance in the neighbourhood of
Blackwood's Magazine--once a famous depôt for combustibles, that blew up
occasionally with great damage. However, it was erected for the purpose
of bringing together all the intelligence of the country.
'Together let us range the fields,
Impearled with the morning dew,'
says an ancient poet, and there is no doubt that the lines were
addressed by one member of the Athenæum to another."
"And what good did they ever do by being brought together?" inquired
Tourniquet.
"That has never been ascertained," replied the other.
"For what purpose was this column erected?" asked the young merchant.
"It was erected to commemorate the victories of a certain Duke of
York," said the professor. "He distinguished himself greatly during the
wars of the rival houses of York and Lancaster. Besides being a great
general, his piety was so great that he became a bishop, and there are a
series of moral discourses extant, that took place between the Bishop
and the Bishop's Clarke, a person who was also very celebrated. It may
be said that this Duke of York enjoyed more credit in his day than any
of his predecessors; indeed he was in such general requisition that the
constant inquiries after him, gave rise to the saying, 'York, you're
wanted;' and it was to him that the people, after a disturbance which
he had pacified, said,--
'Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by the son of York.'"
"I certainly feel the charm of association as much as any one," observed
Oriel to his companion; "but the gratification I find in treading shores
so celebrated by historic recollections is changed to a painful feeling
at beholding the wreck to which has been reduced the greatness I have
honoured. I should suppose, from what I have seen, that the whole land
is in a similar state as that portion of it which has come under my
observation. I can imagine nothing so deplorable. There appear to be no
living things in the island but wild animals. I can only account for
their being here, from my knowledge that, in former times, the natives
kept several large collections of them for show, and that these having
escaped, they spread themselves over the country."
At this moment Oriel's quick ear caught the sound of a low sharp growl
at no great distance from him, and turning round, beheld a large lion
crouching behind a heap of stones near the two philosophers, who were
disputing so vehemently that they had not the slightest idea of their
danger. The young merchant had just time to get his gun in readiness and
give the alarm to the sailors, when, with a fierce roar that came like
a peal of thunder upon the terrified disputants, the lion sprung upon
them, and knocked them both down. He stood majestically with one paw
upon the prostrate philosophers, looking defiance on Oriel and his
companions, as they cautiously approached him from all sides with their
muskets in their hands.
"Now, my friends," exclaimed the young merchant, "don't fire till
you come within good aiming distance--don't more than half fire at a
time--let the others reserve their fire, in case he makes a spring--be
steady, and aim at his head."
"Ay, ay, sir," was murmured by the captain; and every man held his
breath, cocked his gun, picked his way carefully over the stones, and
prepared himself for a struggle with his dangerous enemy. The lion saw
them advancing--shook his mane, lashed his tail, and, bending his head
to the ground, uttered a long and deafening roar.
"Now then, mind your aim," said the young merchant. About a dozen
discharged their pieces; and, with a piercing howl, the lion dashed
among his foes, knocking down some half-a-dozen of them, and scattering
the rest in all directions. Luckily, he had been too severely wounded
to do any more serious mischief. His roar was terrible; but the men
having again approached him, poured in a more deadly fire, and with a
vain attempt to reach them, he gave a savage growl, and fell covered
with wounds. Scarcely had this been done, before a distant roar was
heard by the victors.
"Make haste and reload, for, if I mistake not, we shall have the lioness
upon us in a few seconds," said Oriel Porphyry earnestly; and all
quickened their preparations, to be in readiness for another contest.
"Take up a position behind that ruin, for the lioness will first make to
the dead lion, and then she will attempt to turn her rage upon us. We
shall have her within gun range as soon as she comes to the lion, and
shall be in some sort of shelter when she begins her attack."
Scarcely had the position been taken and the arrangements made, when the
roar became more distinct; and, soon afterwards, the lioness was seen
rapidly approaching, with a series of prodigious leaps that quickly
brought her into the immediate neighbourhood of the party in ambush. She
instantly proceeded to the lion. At first, she patted him with her paw.
Finding he took no notice of that, she fawned upon him, and licked him
with her tongue, playfully bit his ear, and played with his mane.
Observing that he was still inattentive to her movements, she gently
turned him over; and then, noticing the wounds in his head and body, and
his incapability of replying to her caresses, she uttered a roar so loud
and piercing, that it made the old walls about her echo again. This
was replied to by a peal of musketry from the neighbouring ruin. In a
moment, with another deafening howl, she rushed towards the place whence
came the reports, and with one desperate bound, leaped to the window
behind which Oriel and his companions lay concealed upon a heap of
stones and rubbish. She had got her fore paws and head upon the ledge of
the window, when another shower of balls sent her reeling back. Howling
with rage she made the leap again; when a blow on the head from the
butt end of a gun, held by a stout seaman, made her loosen her hold,
and, with a savage growl, she fell to the ground. From there she next
crawled to the body of the lion, licking the upper part of his body,
and uttering the most wild and melancholy howls. She was evidently much
wounded; but she managed to crawl round him several times, drawing her
long tongue over his mane, and moving a paw, or his head, in hopes of
noticing some sign of recognition. At last, finding all her efforts
ineffectual, she emitted a roar that rivalled the loudest thunder,
lashed her body furiously with her tail, began tearing up the stones and
soil around her, and then, as if putting forth her strength for a last
effort, she made two or three prodigious leaps towards the adjoining
building. The bullets that met her in her way did not stop her progress,
for with one enormous bound she cleared the window, and came down in
the midst of the voyagers, dashing them about with a violence that gave
several of the men very severe contusions, and grasping one by the neck
so furiously that he would have inevitably been killed, had not Loop
stabbed her to the heart with a short sword he carried, while Hearty
gave her a desperate blow on the head with an immense fragment of stone.
Letting go the man she had got so firmly in her grasp, she turned upon
her assailants a look of the most savage ferocity, and then, with a
short howl of agony, fell back dead at their feet.
They had dragged the lioness out of the building, and several of the men
were busily engaged taking off the skins of the two animals, and the
rest were talking over the dangers they had escaped, when Zabra pointed
out to his patron the figures of an old man and a young female, who were
advancing up the broken steps that led to the base of the column. The
sight of human beings was so novel, that every one paid particular
attention to the individuals they now beheld. The man appeared to have
reached extreme old age, for his hair was white and long, and hung down
upon his neck and shoulders. His complexion was ruddy, but although the
face was covered with wrinkles and deeply marked furrows, there was
an animation in his eyes that showed that the fire of life was still
brilliantly burning. He was tall, and walked firmly, supporting himself
by a long staff. The skin of a lion hung from his neck over his manly
shoulders. The rest of his dress was composed of skins fastened by
thongs round his body and legs. A long sword was suspended at his side,
which, with a knife or dagger at his waist, seemed all the weapons he
possessed.
He was accompanied by a young girl, whose complexion had evidently
been browned by exposure to the sun, the effect of which gave a warmer
character to the quiet beauty of her features. Her eyes were of a soft,
deep, blue, beaming with tenderness and benevolence; and her hair, which
was silken in its texture, and very light in colour, fell in clustering
curls from her forehead to her neck. A sort of cape, made of feathers,
covered her shoulders; beneath which was a long garment reaching below
the knees, made of different skins neatly sewed together, and bound
round the waist with a belt of the same. Her arms and legs were bare,
and they were of the most exquisite symmetry, delicately and beautifully
formed. In one hand she carried a light spear, and the other she rested
upon the shoulder of her companion.
As soon as the young girl observed the voyagers, she started back with
an exclamation of fear, and clung to the arm of her elder companion,
who, noticing the cause of her alarm, immediately let fall his staff and
drew his sword. There was something remarkably imposing in the attitude
of the old man. He drew up his stately form to its full height; and as
he stood upon the defensive with his weapon firmly grasped in his right
hand, while with his left arm he clasped the young girl by the waist and
drew her behind him, there seemed a vigour in his silvery hairs, and
a fire in his sunken eyes, that neither youth or manhood could have
rivalled.
Oriel Porphyry, who looked upon them with peculiar interest, laid down
his arms and advanced towards them, accompanied only by Zabra, who was
also unarmed. Their approaches were closely regarded by the man, and
watched with curiosity by the female.
"Fear us not, old man, we will do you no harm," said the young merchant.
"Fear!" exclaimed the old man proudly, "I know it not."
"We are voyagers from a distant land, who have been induced to visit
your shores, from a desire to do honour to a country once so famous."
The old man, without making any reply, hastily returned his sword to
its scabbard, and then, with a countenance in which fearlessness and
kindness were blended, held out his right hand. The hand of Oriel
Porphyry was soon in its cordial and friendly grasp, and a compact of
sociality seemed immediately agreed to between both parties. "And you,
fair maid, need not be alarmed," said Zabra, approaching the maiden with
a look that might have inspired a savage with confidence. "You will meet
amongst us none but friends anxious to do you honour and service."
She shrunk back from his advances with a strong feeling of timidity
expressed in her features; yet continued to gaze on the handsome face
and graceful person of the speaker, as if they had for her an attraction
impossible to be resisted.
"The child is unused to strangers," observed her companion, as he
noticed the shy and wondering manner with which she regarded Zabra. "It
is long since she has seen a human being except myself. Be not afraid,
Lilya," he exclaimed, as he drew her towards him. "These are not
enemies. They are wanderers, like ourselves; but they have a home and
kindred--we have neither."
The cheerful countenance of the old man now became clouded with
melancholy, and he sighed as if there was a heaviness upon his heart
that could not be removed; but the timid Lilya still gazed upon the
features of the young musician, as if she found it impossible to remove
her eyes from their beauty. There was an extraordinary contrast between
her and her companion. She seemed just in the dawn of womanhood, with
delicate limbs, and looks all bashfulness and pleased surprise; while
he appeared on the extreme verge of old age--all bone and sinews, hard
and rough with exposure to the severities of time and climate. She
was evidently too young to be his daughter; but that there was some
relationship between them was evident, for even in the gentle loveliness
that distinguished her youthful face might be discerned faint traces of
resemblance to the ancient but noble example of manhood that stood by
her side.
"Your appearance has much interested me," said the young merchant,
gazing on the stranger's venerable appearance with affectionate respect;
"and I hope it will not be deemed intrusive or impertinent if I inquire
who it is I behold."
"You see before you the last of the Englishmen," said the old man,
looking proudly upon the inquirer.
"Is it possible?" exclaimed Oriel, regarding him with increased
admiration and a voluntary feeling of homage.
"The last of that powerful and illustrious race is now before you,"
he added, "and this is the child of my child's child. We are all that
remain of the great people who filled this island with their multitudes
and the world with their fame. Kindred and countrymen--all are gone;
their homes are the habitations of the wild cat and the vulture, and
even their very graves have been made desolate by the jackal and the
hyena."
"You appear to have attained a great age," remarked Zabra.
"Alas! I have outlived my country," replied the Englishman. "A hundred
and twenty years have passed since my existence commenced. Time has
forgotten me. I have been where the sword was ploughing deep furrows
around me far and near.--I have seen Death busy at his work amid the
youthful, the old, the innocent and the guilty.--I have noticed the
young trees grow up, put forth their bravery, and die.--I have beheld
mighty buildings crumble into dust.--I have known all things perish
before my eyes: yet I have remained untouched in the midst of the
desolation.--Three generations have passed away, and have left me to
gather consolation from their tombs."
"If the relation of what you have known and endured be not too painful,
I should much like to hear it," said the young merchant.
"If you have the patience to listen, all shall be told to you," replied
the old man. Then taking up his staff, he walked on to some fragments of
building that lay at a short distance, on which he sat with Lilya at his
feet. Oriel Porphyry, Zabra, Loop, the captain, Fortyfolios, and the
doctor sat or reclined in a circle round him, and beyond the circle, the
sailors stood leaning on their guns.
CHAP. V.
AN ACCOUNT OF THE DECLINE AND FALL OF OLD ENGLAND.
"It must be at least a century since the necessities of the kingdom
obliged me, for the first time, to attempt the trade of war," said the
Englishman. "There had been some dispute between the government and the
people, which was originally of little consequence, but the zeal of
furious partizans on each side gave it an importance which would not
otherwise have belonged to it. One said the safety of the people
depended on their success--another declared that the security of
the crown was involved in the question. One party were frantic for
liberty--another party, not so numerous, but far more influential,
were enthusiastic for loyalty. But words were soon given up for more
effective weapons. The Court, proud in their strength, prepared
themselves for a sanguinary conflict; and their antagonists, having
equal confidence in their numbers, followed their example with the same
alacrity. The whole country was astir with contention: families were
divided, and friends turned into foes. He who opposed the King was
denounced as a rebel; and he who differed with the people was declared
a traitor.
"Many disturbances had broken out before the parties took the field in
military array; but now the quarrel assumed a more serious aspect. Every
one armed himself, and hastened to join that cause which seemed to him
the best; and the most influential men on each side led these masses to
the battle. Though they were children of the same soil, and many had
relatives in the opposite ranks, nothing could equal the animosity with
which they engaged and the fury with which they fought. Never had they
against a foreign foe exhibited such fierceness. The battle raged
nearly the whole of the day with great slaughter on both sides. The
men of loyalty were less in number, but they were more experienced in
soldiership. The men of liberty had the most powerful army, but they
were deficient in military discipline and in martial appearance. They
fought with the most determined courage, resisting and making attacks,
attacking and defending positions, till, after a protracted struggle,
the latter succeeded in driving their opponents off the field.
"This was merely the commencement of hostilities. The crown party,
though defeated, were very soon in a condition to renew the contest; and
though this victory to the popular cause brought a great increase of
strength, it did not save its partizans from being defeated with immense
slaughter in the next battle that was fought. For several years a
destructive civil war raged with unexampled ferocity in every part of
the kingdom; sometimes one party being the strongest, sometimes the
other. Every individual capable of bearing arms was obliged to join
either the cause of the king or that of the people; and, as a great
diversity of opinion existed, brothers were set against brothers, and
fathers against sons, and thousands and tens of thousands of the bravest
of her citizens daily were cast into pits to feed the worms of the soil
of England. At last the popular cause triumphed, and the King became a
fugitive. Loud were the congratulations of the victors when no doubt
seemed to remain of their success; but they had little cause for their
joy--they had only changed a bad ruler for a worse.
"The triumphant party now sought out such of their fellow-citizens who
had most distinguished themselves by their hostility to their progress
during the late warfare; and they who did not succeed in escaping were
persecuted and exterminated in every way that vengeance could devise.
Blood continued to flow, and hatred and strife still existed. The
leading men among them had scarcely settled themselves in their
authority, before they began to differ concerning their notions of
government. Some were for one form and some for another, and each had
his own theory to support or his own ambition to gratify. The difference
soon increased to open hostility; and as each was supported by a
numerous band of partizans, each strove for the mastery with all the
cunning and boldness he possessed. Battles were again fought--victims
were again sacrificed. Party succeeded party; and as one overpowered the
other, the vanquished were sure to be massacred if they remained within
the power of their conquerors.
"But the cause of the king was considered the cause of all kings; and
while the different leaders of the people seemed intent only upon
exterminating each other, a powerful armament was being fitted out in a
neighbouring kingdom for the purpose of restoring the deposed monarch to
his possessions. The first intimation that the ruling government had of
this expedition was derived from its landing upon the coast; and the
necessity of an immediate union between all parties against the common
enemy became so evident, that they lost no time in settling their
differences, joining their disposable forces, and making preparations
to resist the approaches of their expelled sovereign. Numbers, who had
suffered from the oppressions of the many, now hastened to the king's
standard. The loyal came from their hiding places, and those who had
fled to the neighbouring continent hurried back again to share in
the struggle. The battle-cry of one was, 'God and the King'--that of
the other, 'God and the People;' and, with increased animosity, the
contending armies rushed to the conflict, till the whole country seemed
flowing with blood.
"At first the king was successful in almost every encounter with his
rebellious subjects. Battle after battle was fought, and still he kept
advancing and triumphing on his way. But the leaders of the people
did not despair. They carried on the contest with the same spirit
notwithstanding their defeats. The whole population rose in arms. No
sooner was one army dispersed than another was ready for action. Three
times the court party took possession of the capital, and were again
driven out. The contest was prolonged by the military genius of one
man, whose mind seemed exhaustless in resources. He had risen from
obscurity, and had gradually exalted himself from one command to another
during the civil war, till the whole forces on the side of the people
were at his disposal. Success appeared to attend all his efforts. As he
in his own person exhibited the most determined bravery, his followers
were stimulated to copy his example. The most daring attacks were
planned and executed, and the royalists began to lose all the advantages
they had previously gained. It was the intention of the popular general
to terminate the contest at a blow; and with this object in view he
concentrated all his forces, and unexpectedly brought them upon the
enemy's camp. The royalists were taken quite unprepared, and few escaped
to announce their defeat. The king, the nobles, the foreign troops, and
a great portion of their native allies perished in one indiscriminate
slaughter; and thus the hopes of the loyal were utterly annihilated for
the time.
"As every man was obliged to join one or the other party, I had my share
in these struggles for mastery. I had inherited a small patrimony in
one of the inland counties, and I had recently married a young and
beautiful relative, to whom I had been attached from my youth, when I
was first called upon to contribute my assistance towards bringing the
contest to a termination. I was an ardent lover of liberty. I was a
great advocate for republics, and I had long looked upon kings as
expensive and useless machines, which the people could easily spare. It
may easily be imagined, from my acknowledgement of these sentiments,
that I eagerly embraced the popular cause. I mixed myself up as little
as possible with the squabbles of partizans; but there were few more
sincere adherents to the principles I professed than myself. I was
present at nearly all the great engagements, received several wounds,
and gradually acquired rank and experience in the republican army.
My superior officers respected me, and the men under my command were
attentive and obedient.
"After the destruction of the royalists, the people were so frantic in
praise of their leader that he thought he might be allowed to assume
the sovereign power. He did so, amid the acclamations of the multitude;
and in six months after was assassinated. No sooner was his decease
known than there rose the same intrigues for supremacy that his master
mind had quelled. Party succeeded party, and government followed
government, in rapid succession; and the gibbet and the axe were in
constant requisition by whatever party happened to be in power. As if
it was determined that this unhappy nation should enjoy no respite from
its troubles, the son of the late king, assuming the royal dignity, had
succeeded in inducing a foreign power to grant such assistance as might
be required to reinstate him in the throne of his fathers. He landed on
the English coast with a large army of foreigners, and advanced in a
very imposing manner towards the ancient metropolis. The government had
no force sufficient to dispute his progress, and fancying itself unable
to struggle successfully against the army brought against it, it took
the dangerous resolution of inviting to its assistance the monarch of a
neighbouring and powerful kingdom. While this was being done the young
king marched forward, meeting with very little opposition till he came
within a few miles of the metropolitan city. There the leaders of the
people had taken up a strong position, and although they were inferior
to the royalists in number and soldiership, and had not yet received the
expected succours from the foreign power, they determined to dispute
the passage with the royalists. The battle was long and sanguinary. The
people, favoured by their position, quietly awaited the attack of their
opponents, and as they advanced, poured into their ranks a heavy and
destructive fire; but although they fought in the most steady and heroic
manner, the superiority of the enemy in numbers and discipline was too
great to be counteracted by the most steady courage. The republicans
were driven from their position, and defeated with great slaughter;
after which the young monarch marched into the ancient city, of which
he took possession. It was at first resolved to renew the fight in the
streets of the metropolis; but dissension and ill-will arose in their
councils, and nothing being resolved on, the popular army retreated
from the city, leaving it open to the advance of the royalists.
"The young king, fancying that all opposition had ceased, or that the
defeated party could not now offer him any molestation, passed his time
in getting up the idle ceremonies of a coronation; but the leaders of
the people were preparing to recommence the struggle. A powerful army
from the monarch who had promised them assistance, had landed, and such
good use did they make of their time, that the young king was obliged
to leave the metropolis in the very midst of his coronation. Then again
the horrors of civil war broke out with fresh fury. As each party
was assisted by foreign allies, the war was never left to languish.
Reinforcements were continually being poured into the kingdom, and the
ranks of the opposing armies, thus strengthened, were led against each
other, and fiercer and more relentless became the strife. Blood
flowed like water, and flesh was cut down like grass. Villages were
deserted--towns burnt--cities depopulated. Whether by design or
accident is not known, but it was found out that in all engagements the
inhabitants suffered infinitely more than their foreign auxiliaries. At
every battle the fields were strewn with their dead, while the loss of
their allies was but trifling.
"After the war had been protracted till there scarcely seemed materials
left in the kingdom to continue it, the king's party were completely
annihilated, and the foreign troops that had assisted them were glad to
make their escape out of the country. The allies which the leaders of
the people had called to their assistance, had been gradually augmented
until they had become an exceedingly numerous and powerful body, and
when the war was over, it was the anxious desire of the people to get
rid of them as soon as possible. But their friends were not so easily
to be disposed of. On different pretexts they protracted their stay
till they had obtained possession of nearly all the strong places in the
empire, and then they not only refused to depart, but commenced a war
of extermination on the people they came to protect. For this treachery
the inhabitants were but ill prepared. The greater portion of the
English army had been disbanded, and the rest were insignificant in
comparison with the new enemy against which they were called to act. The
consequence was, that for a considerable time the foreign army passed
from one part of the island to the other, burning and destroying
whatever they met with, without meeting any resistance.
"A force was hastily organised for the purpose of driving these
treacherous friends out of the country. The old and young of all parties
and opinions rushed to the national standard with the hope of freeing
their native land from foreign rule. A battle ensued. Nothing could
exceed the desperate bravery of my countrymen; but the discipline of
their enemy was not to be resisted. The people were slaughtered in
multitudes, and I, who commanded one of the wings of the army on that
occasion, was the only general officer who retreated from the field
with anything like a respectable body of men. We were attacked as we
retreated by a force greatly our superior; but I continued to show a
resolute front, beat off the assailants, and maintained a successful
fight. I succeeded in placing my men within the shelter of impregnable
walls.
"The people had by this time become sick of war. Thirty years of
continued bloodshed had done destructive work all over the country. The
population had been greatly reduced; agriculture had been neglected;
commerce was rapidly decaying; manufactures had been destroyed; all the
resources of industry had been annihilated; poverty, misery, and ruin
existed throughout the land. The people sued for peace. The enemy sent
back a message:--it was, 'England must be destroyed;' and still they
continued their relentless work of pillage, burning, and slaughter.
But the spirit of the nation was not utterly broken. They still waged
a defensive and offensive war whenever there was an opportunity of
doing so with advantage. Every small party of the enemy were cut off,
stragglers killed wherever met with, and their army harassed in every
way that hatred and ingenuity could devise. Bands of well-armed
Englishmen, from fifty to a thousand in number, under separate and
independent leaders, surprised positions, destroyed convoys, and cut
off supplies. A new plan of warfare was now attempted, which, although
destructive to the country, was found a most effective means of
expelling the invaders. This was, wherever the enemy approached, to burn
the dwellings, and to move or destroy every kind of provision.
"About this period, there appeared amongst the crowd of wretched beings
who congregated the cities, a new and malignant epidemic. How it first
originated was a mystery. It came, and none knew from what cause. Its
fatal character was soon proved. At first, the people died in tens
and twenties, then they perished by hundreds, and then thousands fell
victims to its malignity. The rich fled from their town houses into the
country, carrying with them the very infection from which they were
flying, and in a short time it penetrated into the most remote corner
of the kingdom. Where the population had not been extensive, there were
not left enough to bury the dead. In some rural districts they died,
and none knew of their decease. It attacked all constitutions with the
same violence: the old, the young, the strong and the weak, were its
continual victims. The rich were as much subject to its ravages as the
poor. There was no condition or class of society in which the disease
did not enter and carry off the majority of its members.
"The system which had been pursued, chiefly under my direction, against
the enemy, gave them considerable annoyance; but still the inhabitants
generally would have done anything to have purchased the blessings of
peace. Again was the boon sued for, and the reply was, 'You haughty
islanders have continued too long to lord it over the world. We have
been your victims many a time; but now you shall be ours--England must
be destroyed.' They might have triumphed over our hostility; they
might, by keeping up a communication with their ships, continue to have
supplies of provision and forage independent of the country; but they
saw that they could not escape the plague: and, after effecting all the
mischief they could produce, they hastened to their vessels, and sailed
from the pestilential shores they had come to conquer.
"I had not mingled in the sufferings of my country without having to
endure my own share. I had found my home burnt to the ground, and my
wife sacrificed in the flames. Three of my sons had died fighting by
my side. But worse suffering was now in store for me: the plague was
amongst us. I had used every precaution to prevent the infection
spreading among my relatives. I had retired to a dwelling up a steep
mountain in the west, and there I resided with my children and their
families. There were four of my sons, strong, robust men, well inured
to all the dangers of war; and there were their wives, all of healthy
constitutions, and their children, of different ages, every one full
of health and spirits. With these were my two daughters, with their
husbands and families, none of whom were touched by the slightest
illness. One morning I was congratulating them upon the beneficial
effect of my regulations to prevent the spread of the infection, and
the mothers looked at their children and the husbands on their wives,
and I gazed on all, with a delight we found to be unspeakable. In less
than a week I had buried them all but one."
Here the old man's voice sunk, and he appeared to be powerfully
agitated. No one attempted an observation; and after making a strong
effort to recover his self-possession, he continued.
"The survivor was a boy of ten years of age; he was one of the few whom
the plague had touched and spared. Me it had passed by harmless. But
the destruction caused by the pestilence exceeded all calculation. As
in my case, whole families were carried off, and districts entirely
depopulated. The pits that were dug to throw in the dead were quickly
filled, and none were strong enough to dig others. The dead cart stood
in the street with its load piled up; for both the driver and the horse
had been destroyed by the pestilence. Physicians and surgeons appeared
to have been the earliest of its victims. They came to visit their
patients, and they died by the bedside. All remedies were tried without
avail; all precautions were used, but they were equally useless. There
were different opinions existing as to its origin. The royalists said
that it was a punishment for the sins of the republicans; and the
republicans retorted by proclaiming that it was a judgment on the
profligacy of the royalists. Religious fanatics went running about the
deserted streets, with streaming hair and blood-shot eyes, shouting out,
in piercing tones, 'Wo! wo! the day of judgment is at hand!'"
This lasted for the better portion of a year; and, after putting the
boy in a place of safety, when the pestilence was over, as I journeyed
through the country to notice the effects it had produced, where I
had once known crowded thoroughfares, I passed along without meeting
a single inhabitant. The country appeared to have been completely
unpeopled; and in the city, the few persons I met with only made the
immense mortality which had existed appear more great. I inquired for
the government, and found that not a trace of it was in existence.
I asked for the army, and I was shown about a couple of hundred men.
I called a meeting of the citizens in the metropolis, and they all
came; and they filled a moderate sized room. I explained to them the
deplorable state into which the plague had reduced the country, and I
asked their counsel and assistance to form some sort of government to
manage its affairs. There was a melancholy silence for some minutes.
None attempted to speak. Their hearts seemed too full for utterance. At
last one of the citizens ventured to wish that I would do what I thought
best for the community; and I did do what I thought best. I travelled
through every part of this once populous island to notice with my own
eyes the exact state of the remaining population. Some cities I found
deserted; in others two-thirds of their buildings were untenanted; the
rank grass was growing in the public streets, and the gardens of the
rich were filled with nettles.
"But the measure of afflictions for this unhappy country had not yet
been filled up. No sooner had the pestilence abated, than another
enemy, scarcely less dreadful, made its appearance. The continued
ravages of war had prevented the tilling of the fields. No one would
attempt to sow, knowing how insecure would be his ownership of the
crop he might produce. There had been no grain, and no fruits, and no
vegetables; and the cattle had died of the plague, or had been destroyed
by the enemy. It was in vain attempting to get a supply from foreign
countries. Our commerce had been destroyed, for no nation would
hold communication with a people among whom raged so destructive a
pestilence. They avoided the shores of England as if death was on its
soil; and any vessel attempting to communicate with them, or to enter
one of their ports, was fired at and sunk. The consequence was, our
ships lay rotting in the docks, and their crews were either dead, or
had dispersed over the island, and were not to be found. The terrific
visitation of famine was now upon us. Every thing was eaten that the
human stomach could be brought to swallow. Things the most loathsome
to the taste, and offensive to the eyes, were readily and ravenously
devoured. Then the cheek sunk; the eye-ball fell; the flesh dwindled
away; and all crawled with half lifeless limbs in search of any
substance that might lessen the cravings of their appetites. But at last
every thing that was digestible disappeared, and the skeleton forms of
the sufferers were stretched stiffly on the place where they fell--some
in madness, some in despair, and all in agony and dread.
"There was no opportunity allowed me for legislating with any advantage.
I thought of every plan that afforded the slightest assistance towards
lessening the dreadful effects of the calamity which the whole country
was enduring; but I met with no one to second my exertions. The few who
retained the use of their faculties were feeble and emaciated. Famine
was in their gaunt limbs, and despair upon their aching hearts. No one
appeared inclined to pay the slightest attention to any thing but his
own sufferings. There was no authority but that of the strong, and they
who retained their physical power the longest, robbed the dying of such
slight nourishment as they had acquired. The rich would bring out their
treasures and offer them for a meal, and when some avaricious wretch was
found to make the exchange, one more strong than either would come by,
and wrest the food from the impoverished, and the wealth from the miser;
and both died within the hour. The breast of the mother became dry, and
the infant was abandoned to starve when it became an incumbrance to the
famished parent. Cats, dogs, rats, mice, and every kind of animal, no
matter how disgusting in its habits, had been greedily devoured; birds,
fish, and insects, that had previously been considered loathsome, were
sought after as delicacies; and weeds, roots, the leaves of trees,
offal, and even many things still more objectionable, became the daily
food of many who had been accustomed to the most luxurious fare.
"Finding that I could do no good among the scanty band of skeletons that
clung to a lingering existence, I determined on endeavouring to make my
way to the northern part of the island, where an industrious and hardy
race had managed to retain their independence and prosperity during the
wars, the pestilence, and the famine, that ravaged its southern portion.
My grandson was too young to walk great distances; so, when he was
tired, I placed him upon my shoulder, and thus we journeyed on our way.
Our food was acorns, berries, roots, and leaves. Sometimes I was enabled
to catch a fish, or a bird, or a small animal; but these were luxuries
seldom to be enjoyed. We passed several parties apparently intent upon
the same object as ourselves; but many were there of the groups who
laid themselves down on the road-side weary and famishing, and there
perished. Continually I came upon some individual made desperate by his
hunger, scratching up the earth with his hands in search of the worms
it contained, which, if found, were eaten with as much enjoyment as the
most delicious meats, and if the search was fruitless, the dry soil
was crammed into the mouth as a substitute. Very few of the travellers
could have reached the end of their journey, for we continued to pass
the dying and the dead as far as we proceeded. Sometimes a solitary
wretch would be found prostrate at the foot of a tree, the bark of which
he had evidently been gnawing; further on a family of children were
discovered, with their little bodies shrunk to the bone, and the parents
at a short distance, with their faces turned from them, as if they could
not look upon their sufferings; and in another place, a lover and his
mistress lay clasped in each other's fleshless arms.
"We were crossing an extensive and barren moor, when we came before
a group of dead bodies, among which, to my exceeding astonishment, I
beheld a child--a delicate girl of five or six years of age--busily
occupied in chasing a butterfly. The scene was so extraordinary that I
stood gazing on it for a considerable period before I could determine
what to do. The insect's gaudy wings kept fluttering over the lifeless
forms that were cold and stiff on the ground, sometimes alighting on
a hand, sometimes on a face; and the child, in an ecstasy of delight,
screaming, and laughing, and stretching out its little arms, pursued it
from place to place. What a time was this for reflection! Here was life
in the midst of death--the pursuit of pleasure among the most fatal and
least endurable examples of pain. It was a wonderful sight! The girl
seemed to know neither want nor sorrow; and continued her sport,
indifferent to the spectral shapes that lay extended at her feet. Their
ghastly stare, and gaunt visages, had no terrors for her. The hunt of
the butterfly occupied all her thoughts, and the hope of attaining
possession of its beautiful colours seemed the only desire entertained.
After watching her movements with indescribable interest for several
minutes, I advanced towards the child, and invited her to go with me. I
had considerable difficulty to get her to leave the butterfly; and when
I led her away from the spot, she chatted with infantile volubility, as
if there was nothing else but the butterfly in the world.
"I found the people of the northern provinces hospitable, and with them
I lived for nearly half a century. They escaped the ravages of the
pestilence by not allowing any infected persons from the neighbouring
counties, who crowded towards the borders, to enter into their
territory. None had presented themselves during the prevalence of the
famine but myself; and their own frugality saved them from the horrors
which had desolated England. They looked upon the southern portion of
the island as a doomed country, for although several parties from the
north had gone there for the purpose of forming settlements, they either
returned after a short stay, stating that neither cattle nor crops would
nourish on the land, or were never more heard of, and were supposed to
have fallen victims to the pirates who occasionally visited the coast. I
passed my time in educating the two children of whom I had taken charge,
and both made great progress under my instructions. The boy became
a fine, active, intelligent man, the girl an admirable example of
womankind; and as I found that their hearts were for each other, in due
time I had them made man and wife. I have outlived them and all their
progeny, with the exception of Lilya, whom, after the decease of her
family, I took with me to England, having at the time an ardent desire
to revisit its desolated shores.
"What I found England I need scarcely describe; you see it before you.
It was a complete ruin. A sad and miserable remnant of her people did
strive to till the land; but the soil refused to give sustenance to the
seed, and the cultivator could gather nothing but a harvest of weeds.
The earth was abandoned for the waters, and the farmers became
fishermen; but the sea and the river gave an inadequate supply. One by
one the inhabitants dropped off, till at last the only human creatures
within the country were myself and Lilya. We managed to subsist by
hunting and fishing. Our fare was not at all times very delicate, and
was seldom very plentiful; but we provided for ourselves tolerably
well. We were obliged to rely upon our own resources; for the savage
appearance of the island, and the belief that it was doomed to
destruction, prevented our being visited by any vessels from the
continent; and even the pirates from the neighbouring islands, having
found that the country contained nothing to tempt them to a visit,
turned their attention to more opulent regions. Lilya and I, therefore,
had the whole land to ourselves, and over it we held absolute
sovereignty. Even the savage monsters of the forest appeared to
acknowledge our supremacy, for none offered to molest us. We took our
way through deserted piles and fallen monuments; and if we disturbed
the lion in his lair, or the eagle in his eyrie, they made way for our
approach, and returned to their haunts when we were gone.
"Thus passed the time. Lilya grew up as you see--a child of the forest,
skilful in snaring game, and in preserving skins; affectionate in her
manner, gentle in her temper, and shy as a dove in her nest. As for me,
I was a wanderer over the lands of my forefathers. The stream, the vale,
the mountain, and the plain, were accustomed to my visits. I became a
denizen of the forest and the plain--a resident in the deserted cities.
I found a dwelling in the palace and the hut; and all places were my
home. I experienced a melancholy pleasure in beholding the scenes in
which the greatness of my country had once been exhibited. I walked
among the crumbling ruins of her once gorgeous halls. The sunken
roofs of her stately cathedrals for me were full of religious awe and
veneration; the dilapidated battlements of her ancient castles seemed
still to show the dauntless valour of the spirits by whom they had been
defended; and the moss and lichens that disfigured her public monuments
gave only a fresher interest to the worth they represented. From these
I gathered the memories of a better time, and the glories of the past
warmed my old heart with the vigour of a second youth. I lived over
again the departed age--I recalled to life the buried generations--I
contemplated the happiness which the grave had long since hid in her
bosom--and the discoloured stones around me seemed to echo the busy
goings on of an industrious population. Free hearts were throbbing
proudly around me, and the stillness of the desert along which I stalked
was made alive with the pleasures of the young, the noble, and the
brave.
"Gone is your glory, oh my country!" exclaimed the old man, in a more
feeble voice; "your greatness among the nations is put down; your
magnificence has dwindled to a heap of stones; your power has nothing by
which it may be known. If the stranger come in a few years, and inquire
for the city which was the wonder of the world, none shall tell him, for
both city and citizens will have crumbled into dust. If he ask for the
people whose name was a glory in every clime that exists, he shall find
no better reply than the echo of his own voice. He may wander over the
brave old island in search of places that history has made immortal,
without being able to discover a trace of their existence. The thistle
and the nettle will hide the graves of its illustrious; ravenous beasts
will prowl in its cities; and all that is noble and grand in its
localities will be crushed, swallowed, and lost in one devouring ruin;
and I, that am here as an ancient tree with gnarled trunk and brittle
boughs, that stands up as if unnoticed by the destroyer, when the rest
of the forest have mouldered into the soil, will then have perished and
passed away, and not even a remembrance of my name will be left upon the
land."
"Noble old man!" exclaimed Oriel Porphyry with fervour, "there is no
one here who does not sympathise with your situation. I would endeavour
to console you, but I am afraid that your case is one beyond all
consolation. What can I do to render you assistance? Let me prevail
on you to leave this land, which has been so completely devoted to
destruction, and I will find you a more attractive home, and friends as
kind as those you have lost."
"Leave this land!" loudly cried the Englishman, apparently astonished
at the suggestion. "For a hundred and twenty years this island has been
the attraction of all my thoughts; my love for it arose from admiration
of its magnificence, and my heart still clings to it in its utter
annihilation. Do you think it would be possible for me, after having
made myself so familiar with its ruins, to find pleasure in the
prosperity of a far off country? No! to me the world hath nothing like
it. What are smiling landscapes? What are stately edifices? What are
fields busy with life, and cities astir with industry, if on a foreign
shore? Its homes are not my home--its graves are not the graves of my
people. But these tottering walls and depopulated lands are mine; I
hold them in undisputed possession; I have a claim on them which has
been long acknowledged; and they have a claim on me which I feel I must
speedily prepare to liquidate. No: leave me to the desolation in which
I dwell. It has become habitual--it has become necessary. I have long,
perhaps too long, been its inhabitant; but the hour comes when another
ruin must be added to those which now encumber the soil."
"And then what is to become of the gentle Lilya?" inquired the young
merchant.
"Ah! 'tis of that I am ever anxious," replied the old man, with a look
of affectionate solicitude towards his youthful relative. "The child is
full of amiable ways--she is artless and untutored: I cannot part with
her; and yet to leave her unprotected in this wilderness is a source of
constant disquietude to me."
"If you entrust her to me," added Oriel, "by the honour of manhood I
promise to behave to her as a brother; and I will place her under the
protection of a lady from whom she will receive every attention her
youth and unfriended situation requires."
"In her name I can promise all that she stands most in need of," said
Zabra.
"What say you, my Lilya?" inquired the Englishman. "Will you go with
the strangers? Will you leave this wretched country, and seek one where
happiness awaits you?"
"I will have no other country but yours, oh my protector!" exclaimed the
girl, as she flung herself into the old man's arms. "These strangers
are good; but they can never be so good as you have been: and these old
walls too--where shall I meet with such verdant moss, or such beautiful
ivy, as they possess? While you live, with you must my existence be
passed: and when you have ceased to lead me in my wanderings through the
silent forest or the deserted city, I care not where I go; for I shall
never again find the parent, the friend and guardian I shall have lost."
The Englishman pressed her more closely to his breast.
CHAP. VI.
THE DEATH OF THE LAST OF THE ENGLISHMEN.
"My life is drawing rapidly to its close," faltered the old man; "my
weary pilgrimage is nearly over. Farewell, ye solitary halls and
voiceless palaces! Farewell, ye grassy streets and ivied porticoes! The
eyes that have gazed upon ye in your splendour, and watched ye gradually
passing into ruin, will soon be darkened and closed. The heart that hath
drawn so many pleasures from your unfading braveries is fast sinking
into that state of nothingness to which you all hasten. City of the
silent! he who worshipped your prosperity, and loved your decay, must
now pass from amidst your ruined dwellings. Like your time-honoured
walls, I totter and tremble, and am ready to fall upon the earth that
supports me--the ivy seems twining up my unsteady limbs, and the moss
is spreading over my ancient heart. Farewell, ye untasted pastures, ye
uncultivated fields, ye gardens of weeds and orchards of brambles--the
wildness of your looks shall welcome me no more. Farewell, ye hoary
mountains and savage rocks, ye untrodden forests and unhonored
streams--the same iron hand that hath visited ye so heavily, as heavily
must fall on me. I pass from among ye, oh land of my fathers! Your earth
shall receive me to her breast!"
The old man lay on a green bank overgrown with wild flowers, while Oriel
and Zabra supported his head. Lilya was reclining at his side, with
one of his hands at her lips, and her face hid on his breast, and she
spoke only in convulsive sobs. Tourniquet stood near him feeling his
pulse, and the professor was close beside endeavouring to administer
consolation. At a short distance stood the captain and midshipman, with
part of the crew of the Albatross, apparently taking a deep interest in
the scene. They were congregated together near a shelving hillock in the
neighbourhood of an extensive marsh. Before them was an ancient arch of
marble, and beyond that, the ruins of a structure evidently once of very
great extent and magnificence, with many statues, some standing where
they had been placed, and others lying mutilated among the heaps of
stones that were piled up around the place for a considerable distance.
The sun was declining in the heavens, and the day was bright and warm.
Ruins, in different stages of decay, were observed as far as the eye
could reach in every direction, except towards the west, where an open
space showed the distant hills, over which the sun was hastening his
descent.
It was evident that the Englishman was dying. His venerable brow was
covered with a thick perspiration, and his fine countenance had become
more pallid and anxious than it had previously been. Yet his eyes beamed
as if they had lost none of their accustomed brilliancy, and his noble
form possessed the same dignity which had first attracted the attention
of the voyagers. He was still in possession of all his faculties,
and there was an energy in his manner, and an impressiveness in his
language, which proved that the spirit that had outlived so many
generations had lost none of its youthful vigour.
"Your pulse is getting more feeble, don't you see?" said the doctor,
with much sympathy for his patient; "and I regret to be obliged to agree
with you in stating that your hours are numbered. You have lived far
beyond the usual term of life, and it must be a great consolation to
you, in your present state, to know that you have lived all that time in
honour, and worth, and virtue."
"Be grateful to Providence that you have been so long spared," observed
Fortyfolios. "The age of man is threescore and ten, and this is but
rarely attained; and yet your existence has been prolonged to nearly
double that length of time. How much have you to be thankful for!
Consider the myriads of human beings who are cut off unprepared;--who
die in infancy, in early youth, or perfect manhood--who just begin to
taste the sweets of life, and then are hurried from its enjoyment.
Consider the advantages you have enjoyed over your fellow-countrymen,
who were destroyed by war, by pestilence, and famine. You have much
reason to congratulate yourself. You have been spared, doubtless, for
some admirable purpose which our finite reason cannot comprehend.
Reflect upon these things, and you will be enabled to meet the approach
of death without apprehension."
"What are your wishes concerning the disposal of Lilya?" inquired Oriel
Porphyry. "Remember that it is impossible that she can be left alone
upon this island with the slightest comfort to herself or pleasure
to others. The offer I made to you the other day I repeat. It is not
probable that her welfare can be secured more effectively in any other
way. Let me implore you then, as you value her future happiness, to take
advantage of my accidental arrival, and give me authority to bear her to
a secure and honourable asylum."
"It must be so, oh my Lilya," exclaimed the old man affectionately.
"When I have left you, this desolate place can be no proper home for
you. You must accompany these kind strangers to their own country. There
you will find that protection and care which is necessary to make you
pass through life with the esteem of your associates. Remember, oh my
Lilya, that if you wish the spirit of the old man who has been your
constant companion in all your journeyings to rest satisfied with his
afterlife, your conduct must be irreproachable, and you must endeavour
to keep your mind free from the approach of all degrading errors. The
world is open before you; but although you will find it fruitful in
every delicious produce--though it possess the most lovely landscapes,
and is peopled by multitudes of the good and generous, there is less
ruin in the desolation you see around you than exists in those fair and
fertile shores. I part with you with much regret--deeply does my heart
feel the separation--but it must be. The evil has no remedy. It ought
to be endured without a murmur. Go then, my Lilya, to the land of the
stranger, and my blessing shall be upon your footsteps, like an eternal
sunshine, wherever they may wander. But in whatever part of the world
you may make your sojourn, forget not that the land from whence you came
exceeded in glory and in excellence all other lands that have existed
since the creation of the world. Do it no dishonour. Show that you are
worthy to acknowledge the place of your nativity; and if you should hear
the idle, the ungenerous, and the thoughtless attempt to lower her fame,
or seek to question her superiority, stand up in her defence with all
the eloquence that truth inspires and patriotism makes perfect; and
speak of the good she has done, and the wonders she has achieved, and
then the most illiberal and unjust of your audience shall find their
erroneous impressions fade before your convincing eulogy, and with
a new and better spirit they shall say, 'Would that I had been an
Englishman!'"
Lilya answered only with her sobs, which now became quicker and more
vehement.
"It must be gratifying to you to know that your country has never been
enslaved," remarked the young merchant, earnestly. "While other lands
have been degraded by the vilest spirit of despotism, the energies of
the public men of England kept her unshackled."
"I stand on the grave of a mighty empire," replied the Englishman, "who
has erected monuments of her greatness in every quarter of the globe. I
am hurrying to the same sepulchre. In such a situation, more than in any
other, it is natural that I should speak the words of truth and honesty.
It is my conviction, then, that this country could never have fallen
from its greatness, except through its own internal dissensions. When
it enjoyed an unexampled state of prosperity, there existed men calling
themselves patriots, yet possessing no claim to such a title, who kept
the multitude in a restless and unsatisfied state, by their continual
abuse of its institutions, and frequent demands for change. If these
individuals could have been believed on their own testimony, they were
the most disinterested set of men that ever existed. They had no motive
except for the common good. They had no feeling separate from the
interests of the community. In my time there flourished few more ardent
lovers of liberty than myself; my inclination for freedom was a passion,
an enthusiasm, a dream. I seemed to see nothing but chains where a
fetter never existed, and found nothing but slavery in a state of
society that enjoyed a higher degree of independence than any in the
world. My connection with the popular party brought me much into contact
with the influencial patriots; and I found them the most selfish,
narrow-minded, bigotted men that ever disgraced a country: they had no
other desire but for their own aggrandisement. They fawned upon the
people till they became possessed of the power they coveted, and then
endeavoured to exert a more absolute authority than had ever been
exhibited by the government they superseded. Self was the great object
of all their exertions, and to selfish ends their fine speeches and
liberal promises always tended. They had no care for the multitude
except as steps for their own advancement. Freedom still appears to me
in the same alluring guise in which she first won me to follow in her
footsteps, and amid the solitude of this uncultivated wild I have
enjoyed more of her smiles than the most perfect form of government
could create; but my experience has convinced me that a vast population
must be well prepared for a change in their constitution, that promises
a considerable accession of liberty, as it is called, before it can be
enjoyed with safety to the commonwealth. Sudden changes never come to
any good. The whole frame-work of society is unhinged by them; opinions
are unsettled, the public confidence is withdrawn, the reverence for
the old is broken, and the new being untried, cannot be regarded with
the same respect as a state of things which has existed for centuries.
I have noticed this; and it proves that revolutions in systems of
government that have any lasting value should be introduced by the
gradual growth of public opinion, and that any system of government that
produces a certain quantity of benefit to the people, however faulty
it may be in other respects, is preferable to any other system of
government which has been untried, and the utility of which, therefore,
has not been ascertained. I am convinced that the dissolution of this
great empire originated in the dissatisfaction in the public mind for
the existing laws, which had been artfully created by numbers of mock
patriots, such as may be found in all states enjoying liberty of
opinion, for the purpose of realising schemes they had entertained for
their own advantage."
"But true patriotism may exist in a state, though the false may be
predominant, don't you see," remarked Tourniquet; "and it is too
sterling a thing to be set aside, because any constitution which governs
the many possesses some acknowledged merit. The real patriotism may
always be known from the false by its self-abandonment, and the true
patriot seeks no other advantage than the public good."
"In the history of nations of any celebrity," said Fortyfolios, "there
can be nothing more interesting to the student than to observe their
gradual rise, decline, and fall. They first arise out of an obscurity
so profound, that among earlier empires they were known, if known
at all, only as a few straggling savages. These multiply and become
enlightened, build cities and ships, cultivate the land and invent
manufactures, make war and obtain great triumphs; and as they advance in
civilisation their resources increase, their intelligence becomes more
general, and at last they acquire a superiority over the most important
nations at such a time existing in the world. This power they retain as
long as they are united, wise, and brave; but immediately a disunion
appears, a complete disorganisation takes place, every thing goes wrong,
and the whole fabric, so elaborately built up, tumbles to pieces. They
once more become reduced to wandering savages, and their country is
again a wilderness. All the earliest nations of antiquity have been
thus created, and thus have perished: and as Carthage, Egypt, Troy, and
numberless other states of equal importance in the youth of the world,
were dissolved till nothing remained of them but the name, so has
England, infinitely their superior, both in public intelligence and in
public glory, arrived at a dissolution as desolating and complete. The
subject of inquiry for the philosopher now is, whether kingdoms or
commonwealths, having returned to the state of barbarism from which they
advanced, will not at a proper period again progress in civilisation
till they once more arrive at the pre-eminence from which they had
fallen."
"The spirit of the future is upon me!" exclaimed the last of the
Englishmen, in an elevated tone of voice, and with his countenance lit
up with deep and powerful excitement. "The glory of the past rises from
its sepulchre with renewed life, and a power exceeding all experience.
Again the ruin rings with life, and the wilderness is a smiling garden,
fruitful in human happiness. The voices of industry now cheer every
corner of the solitary city, and the laugh of pleasure awakens the
gloomy recesses of the forest with an inspiring feeling of gladness.
Now are the broad waters of the abandoned river covered with shipping
of every maritime nation under the sun; and in every sea that flows
beneath the arching vault of the everlasting heavens, the dauntless
mariners of England dash along, triumphing over the tempest and the foe.
The magnificence, the bravery, the intelligence, the virtue, and the
might of former times now rise before my gaze, multiplied tenfold in
degree. I see the banners of a thousand victories; the shouts of freedom
and the glad pæans of triumph swell upon my ear; the pomp of stirring
music--the beauty of art in its noblest creations--the perfection of
unrivalled manufactures--the imposing array of palaces of streets and
streets of palaces, stupendous bridges, noble monuments, and stately
halls;--the throngs of the noble, the great, the good, the wise and the
industrious, with sumptuous equipages, numerous retinues, gay liveries,
or joyous faces, and happy hearts, become evident to my senses. I
see the felicitous influence of a wise government exercised upon a
flourishing and contented population countless as the stars. I see
societies, and families, and individuals, all sharing in the general
joy. I see wealth, abundance, skill, and industry, flowing in a
refreshing channel that fertilises the whole island. I behold thee, oh,
my country! the proudest of the nations, whose laws govern the seas, and
whose name is absolute on the dry land, rising from the darkness and the
desolation which now shrouds thy greatness, and with a prouder dignity,
and a fresher splendour, and a power more universal than to one nation
ever belonged resume thy ancient throne upon the waters, and commence a
reign which shall far exceed in glory all the glories by which it has
ever been preceded."
The old man fell back exhausted into the arms of Oriel and Zabra, and it
was at first feared that his spirit had departed; but in a few moments
respiration gently recommenced, the look of life beamed in his gaze, and
he returned to a state of consciousness.
"This will not last long, don't you see;" said the doctor to his
companions. "Though the intellectual powers have suffered but little,
the physical are nearly destroyed. He is but lingering on his journey.
His resting-place is close at hand."
"Let me see the sun;" exclaimed the Englishman, with the same
enthusiastic fervour he had previously exhibited, as he endeavoured
to turn himself in the required direction. His hearers lifted him up
gently, so that he could have a full view of that majestic luminary
as it was setting behind the western hills. "Let me again behold that
glorious orb whose uprisings and whose goings down I have witnessed
so long and proudly. Ha! There still spread the ruddy tints--the glow
of fire and gold is upon the skies once more;--there are the gorgeous
colours and radiant splendours that have so often shed their
magnificence upon our ancient island. Once again, O wondrous Oread, I
drink in delighted the sweet effulgence of your rays. They warm me, they
cheer me, they invigorate the flagging current still flowing through
my veins. How many times have I looked upon your rising and your
setting!--and on every fresh occasion have exclaimed how lovely! how
new! how wonderful! And now for the last time, I watch ye taking the
accustomed path, clothed in that panoply of state that knows of no
decay. Stay, stay a little in your course: your rising on the morrow
will not be for my enjoyment; for, with your setting, on me sets
the world. Stay, bright harbinger of gladness, your task is not yet
done;--there is a soul fondly hovering on your beams, that, as you fade,
must pass away. Slowly your glories dissolve into the cloud, and with
them the impulses of my existence disappear. The fires around you,
are becoming faint, and the flame that burns in this receptacle is
trembling, and flickering, and dying into darkness. Still I follow you
over the distant hills, now purpled with your beauty. Heaven and earth
are fading from my sight, and England, the land of my birth and grave,
of my long pilgrimage and devoted love, passeth from my view like a
cloud in the nighttime. Lilya! my blessing be upon you from now to
eternity. Friends, I submit her to your care with a thankfulness that
language cannot speak. I die with many consolations. I have no enemies
to forgive;--I have had none to sin against. I die in the religion of
my fathers, with glory to God and good will towards men. See, the last
streak of crimson over the hill, just above the fading disc of the
setting sun. Watch it--my spirit is hastening to share in its
splendours. See,--it lessens--it fades--'t is gone!"
The old man had extended his arm towards that part of the horizon to
which he wished to attract attention; and as the last words of the
preceding sentence were uttered, the disc of the sun disappeared over
the hills, the arm fell, the head dropped, and without a sigh, the
spirit of the last of the Englishmen had departed to its eternal rest.
Lilya, in an uncontrollable agony of grief, flung herself upon the
corpse; and there was scarcely a person present who was not deeply
affected.
"Is he quite dead?" whispered the young merchant, observing that
Tourniquet had his fingers upon his wrist.
"It's impossible to be more so, don't you see;" replied the surgeon, as
he dropped the lifeless arm by the side of the body.
"We had better give him christian burial before we leave the island;"
remarked Fortyfolios. "The wild beasts, it seems, are numerous about
here, and it would not be a friendly act to leave his body to be
devoured by them. I do not know whether there is any consecrated ground
near, but I should think in a city so celebrated for the number of its
churches, a burial-place cannot be far off."
"I will not have his remains mingle with the herd that choke up a
church-yard;" exclaimed Oriel Porphyry. "He shall have a more honourable
sepulchre. About a mile hence I noticed the colossal statue of some
distinguished hero. It is in a large park-like place, slightly elevated,
and at a considerable distance from any ruins. We will bury him at
its base: it is a grave such as his free spirit would have loved to
contemplate."
The young merchant instantly gave orders about the funeral, and while
the preparations were being made, he, assisted by Zabra, drew Lilya
from the body, which she could not be induced to leave without force.
The seamen had brought with them some pickaxes and shovels for the
purpose of digging for antiquities, and these were now to be called into
use for a more melancholy occasion. Every one being in readiness, twelve
sailors with muskets reversed, walked slowly two abreast: then came the
body, still in its dress of wild skins, wrapped up in the Columbian
flag, and carried by eight men upon four muskets crossed. After them
walked Lilya, supported by Oriel Porphyry and Zabra. They were followed
by Fortyfolios and Tourniquet, and the captain and the midshipman, and
the procession was closed by twelve seamen marching slowly, two abreast,
with arms reversed.
They passed along what appeared to be the remains of a road, for about
half a mile, when they came to a magnificent ancient triumphal arch,
a splendid example of architectural beauty, standing in excellent
preservation, with a colossal equestrian statue of a warrior trampling
under his horse's feet a group of warlike figures in different
costumes. An illegible inscription, supposed to be a list of victories
gained over the enemies of his country by the original of the statue,
was placed under the prostrate group, and beneath them in large
capitals that might be read at a great distance, was observed the word
"WELLINGTON." This admirable work of antiquity was divided into a
large central arch and two smaller ones, one on each side. They were
richly sculptured in bas relief, and adorned with every appropriate
architectural ornament.
Passing beneath this grand triumphal monument, the funeral train
observed another of a less imposing character just before them, which
was much dilapidated. To reach it, they had to walk through a field of
weeds and high grass, which at different places, showed signs of having
once been a fine broad public thoroughfare; and venturing under the
tottering walls of this arch, they entered an expansive field of docks
and nettles, wild flowers, and gigantic thistles. Ruins of considerable
buildings were observed on the right. Clumps of trees were scattered in
every direction, and about the centre, on a high mound, stood a colossal
bronze statue of an ancient warrior, supposed to be some illustrious
English general. It was a splendid specimen of sculpture, and appeared
to be of great antiquity.
Here it was intended should be consigned the remains of the heroic old
man, and the seamen having dug a deep grave at the foot of the statue,
he was deposited on the bank, where he lay wrapped up in the flag for a
few minutes to give to every one an opportunity of seeing him for the
last time. Lilya knelt down by the side of the dead body, kissed the
cold hand, and covered it with her tears. Many attempts were made to
tranquillise her grief, but without success. Every head was uncovered as
the professor read the funeral service, and even the hardy seaman seemed
much affected by the impressive character of the scene.
"The brevity of existence has been much insisted on," observed
Fortyfolios at the conclusion of the service; "and here is an example
of the prolongation of life far beyond the usual term, and prolonged
under circumstances remarkably rare and interesting. This human
antiquity bore all the marks of greatness which were first impressed
upon its nature, through the violent changes that shook to ruin the
society to which it belonged. He was brave, patriotic, noble, and
patient. He could draw hope from the materials of despair, and find
comfort in the midst of desolation. Let us not murmur, then, at the
small evils among which we exist, when we find such admirable endurance
of evils of the greatest magnitude. The love of country is a natural and
amiable virtue, but never has it sat so gracefully, and existed with
such disinterestedness, as in the character of this ancient Englishman.
He loved, not because such love was a common feeling which every object
around him might excite; but he loved as if he had calculated what
would be the amount of patriotism possessed by his countrymen had they
existed; and considering himself as the representative of the dead,
endeavoured to exhibit the total of their contributions; and this
exhibition seemed the more abundant, as the objects which should have
the most readily created it became the least capable of exciting it
into action. He was a great man, and may be looked upon as the last
production of a great country."
"As for the men who are vulgarly called great, don't you see," observed
the doctor, "your kings, your conquerors, and such poor cattle, they
shrink into their proper insignificance when compared to the last of the
Englishmen. How could they have endured the barren waste and wilderness
of ruins for any length of time! They could have found nothing to
appreciate in its solitude, they would have left its desolation in
disgust. Patriotism here was the most amiable of virtues. It was pure
and honest and excellent. It was full of truth and courage, and a power
that was invincible. Let us honour this old man: the grave will hold him
fast. We shall see nothing of the kind again. Let us then make the most
of his memory, for the estimation of such excellence will be always a
proof of the existence of a love of that which is best. The self-denials
of ascetics, and the mortifications of religious misanthropists, who,
shutting themselves up from the sweet influence of social intercourse,
hate their fellows and torture themselves; what are these compared with
that nobler, purer, better feeling which bound this old man to the grave
of his country, and made him find enjoyment and consolation in the
recollection of her immortal excellences? Let us honour him, for he is
an example of how much honour humanity may attain."
"I cannot unwillingly join in praise so well deserved," said Oriel
Porphyry; "the extraordinary energy of his heroic nature that made him
endure with so cheerful a spirit the evils under which generation after
generation sunk into utter hopelessness, is worthy of all the admiration
we can confer upon it. We will bury him in the earth he loved so well;
and although we raise no monument to glorify his actions, and although
to strangers he be indebted for the rites of sepulture, his sleep will
not be the less profound, nor his obsequies the less honourable.
Perhaps in some future age, when, as he hath prophesied, this ancient
nation shall arrive at a degree of prosperity and greatness far beyond
any thing it has hitherto attained, the people of the future imagining
that this monument has been erected over the mortal remains of some
heroic spirit of the early ages, shall throng in crowds to confer on it
the homage of their reverence; and the fame, though in error, will do
him justice, and posterity, though ignorant, will rightly apply their
admiration."
"Grieve not, sweet Lilya!" exclaimed Zabra, as he was endeavouring to
console the afflicted mourner; "he for whom you mourn mourns not; why,
therefore, should you be afflicted? His spirit is at peace with the
world; he treads no more among the ruins and weeds of this deserted
land; his home is where nature enjoys an unfading youth; where beauty
breathes from an unclouded atmosphere, and love dwells around him like
a perpetual blessing. Grieve not for the loss of the goodness which was
enshrined in his nature, it has gone to join the First Great Cause of
all good from which its goodness was derived. You see the wild flowers
that are scattered at our feet; they gather from the air and the soil
their fragrance and their loveliness, and these qualities they give back
to the air and the soil, when the freshness of their leaves is dried up,
and the soft hues in which we so much delight fade from their blossoms.
Whatever exists, exists in a state of continual giving and receiving. It
gains only to lose when what it has acquired can no longer be rendered
profitable to its owner. As the rivers run into the sea, glides all
humanity into the boundless ocean of the eternal; yet, fast as they
empty themselves as rapidly they flow from their sources, just as the
waters of life rush into the gulf of death, and though swallowed up with
inconceivable velocity, rise from their innumerable springs in greater
abundance. Grieve not, then, for grief is of no utility to either
the living or the dead. Consider yourself: in you are deposited the
materials of much happiness for yourself and others; endeavour to apply
them to the most advantage. Some fond youth may soon be looking on your
eyes, as gazes the devotee on the innermost sanctuary of his temple. In
you he will concentrate all his ideas of what is most admirable; to you
he will turn his thoughts; for you he will breathe his aspirations;
his dreams he will gladden with your smiles; his hopes he will make
brilliant in the lustre of your gaze. Are such things unworthy of your
contemplation? Leave off these regrets; quit this senseless clay which
answers not to your sympathy. Strive to become all, when living, he
would have wished you to be. Virtue and truth and wisdom invite you to
partake of their enjoyments, and if you attend to the better business of
life, under their instructive auspices, you may be assured of becoming
possessed of such happiness as it is felicitous even to imagine."
Lilya raised her eyes streaming with tears to the handsome countenance
of the speaker, and her face was lit up with an expression that for
the time obliterated all traces of sorrow. At this moment the body was
carefully deposited in the grave, over which the seamen fired a volley
of musketry, after which he was covered with the soil, and the party
returned to their tents. Here, immediately on Zabra's arrival, he
proceeded to his harp, and after a few chords full of melancholy and
tender feeling, sang the following lines:--
"The last of his race now lies low,
Lies low in the soil that gave bliss to his eyes,
Though his country no joy could bestow,
For in deserts he lived and 'mid ruin he dies;
For him no dull trappings of woe,
No dark hirelings of grief round his sepulchre rise,
And he leaves not a friend or a foe,
His merits to praise or his faults to despise.
"The last of his race to his rest,
To his rest in the grave hath gone silently down;
With his sword girded on o'er his vest,
And arrayed as in life from the foot to the crown.
But say not his tomb is unblest,
Or the name he hath left be unknown to renown,
For the wild flow'r shall bloom o'er his breast,
And his fame shall be echoed through village and town.
"Though strangers his corse in the grave,
In the grave they have chosen with honour shall place,
Though the earth take the life which it gave,
And the tooth of the worm shall the mortal efface,
There shall dwell neither tyrant or slave,
There shall live not a people so lost in disgrace,
Who shall know not the land of the brave,
And respect not the bones of the Last of his Race."
At the close of the song, Zabra felt a hand placed lightly on his
shoulder, and, turning round, beheld Lilya gazing on him with a look so
full of pleasure, that he felt almost inclined to doubt it was the same
creature who a short time since was so overpowered with affliction. "I
will go with you," said the timid girl, as a slight blush appeared on
either cheek; "I will go with you to your own country--if--that is--I
should like to go with you if you will take me."
The same evening they were all on board the Albatross, which immediately
set sail, and retraced her way through the river into the wide ocean.
CHAP. VII.
LILYA.
"I am getting very anxious about my father!" said Oriel Porphyry to his
young friend; "I am sure something must have happened, or I should have
found a communication from him at one or other of the different ports I
have touched at. Not a syllable of information have I been able to gain
from any of my father's ships I have spoken with, for most of them had
left Columbia about the same time as my last advices, and the others
were not aware of any thing important having transpired."
"We are going homewards now, Oriel, and if any thing has happened shall
soon be made aware of it;" observed Zabra. "Let us hope for the best. I
should not imagine, from the immense influence that he possesses, that
the government would attempt to injure him."
"They only want the power, I believe;" replied the young merchant.
"I know these sort of people too well to put much confidence in an
appearance of tranquillity that has been forced upon them. They must
hate my father. As the prime mover in the revolution which exhibited
their insignificance so palpably, they will look upon the merchant as a
person particularly odious, and no doubt would gladly get rid of him at
any cost or risk."
"I should think for their own interests they would let him alone;"
remarked his companion. "Experience ought to have taught them the danger
of meddling with so popular a character, and having suffered so severely
it is not like that they will renew the hazardous experiment."
"It is because they have suffered that they will be desirous of
revenging themselves upon one whom they consider as the cause of the
infliction;" said Oriel. "It would have appeared bad enough to them if
my father had been one of the most powerful of the aristocracy; but it
wounds them to the quick when they reflect that he is a plebeian--in
their ideas immeasurably beneath them--an individual of no ancient
family, without rank or dignity. With the feelings which a knowledge of
this fact must create it is impossible that they can rest satisfied with
their limited privileges and curtailed power. They will be continually
intriguing for his destruction."
"They dare not do it, Oriel," replied Zabra; "I feel assured they dare
not."
"I wish I could think so," said his patron; "but I have a little more
knowledge of the world than you, Zabra, and I know something more of
the disposition of such men. As long as he lives they will consider
themselves insecure. They can know no peace save in his death; and I am
convinced that they will use every exertion to accomplish it. I hope I
may be enabled to return in time to frustrate their intentions. I should
like nothing better than to expose their machinations, and to punish
them in an appropriate manner; and if the people exist in the same state
of feeling as when my father last wrote, I will show them something
they little expect to see. My father's friends are almost innumerable in
Columbus, and are always ready with hand and heart to serve him whenever
he will give the word, which he is always exceedingly loth to give;
and I think I may say that my friends in the metropolis are neither
despicable in number nor in influence, and are as eager to befriend me
in time of need; and I shall be quite as eager to accept their services.
I remember the times when I have been exercising my regiment, the
devotion that was displayed by both officers and men; but this I am well
aware was owing to their admiration of my father's virtues. Of them I am
secure. My fondness for military exercises made me labour to perfect in
discipline the troops I commanded, and they are now as effective a body
of men as ever entered a field of battle. They will perform good service
wherever they go. The national guard is another powerful engine to be
employed on such an occasion. In the metropolis alone they amount in
number to about twenty thousand; and they are devotedly attached to my
father. If there exist but a sufficient cause I know that I have only
to present myself amongst them, to induce them to follow me wherever I
choose to lead."
"I trust you will have no occasion for their services," said his
companion; "it is my belief that on our return we shall find every thing
in the most comfortable state, and all parties satisfied with each
other. Your military dreams will then be completely disappointed, and
you will be under the painful necessity of making up your mind to share
the well-earned honours of your father, and partake of a perfect state
of happiness with Eureka."
"Ah, Eureka!" exclaimed the young merchant with passionate emphasis;
"how rejoiced I shall be to return to her! I often find myself inquiring
into the possibility of a change in her disposition towards me."
"That can never be, Oriel;" observed the other.
"I have the fullest confidence in her fidelity, but sometimes I find
an apprehension intrude without knowing what produced it;" said his
companion. "There are no such self-tormentors as your true lovers; and
although I should be among the first to laugh at the suffering they give
themselves, I must acknowledge that on more than one occasion I have
endured a state of feeling which was any thing but satisfactory."
"By what was it occasioned?" inquired Zabra.
"Merely from my ignorance of the motives which have induced her to deny
me any communication with her till my return;" answered Oriel.
"You would not condemn her if you knew what made such a denial
necessary;" remarked his young friend.
"Very probably not: but the mischief of it is, I do _not_ know;"
said Master Porphyry. "Any thing in the shape of a mystery annoys me
amazingly, and this behaviour of hers appears to me most mysterious and
unaccountable. I think between lovers the most perfect sincerity should
exist. There should be no room left for doubt or suspicion. But in
the generality of attachments you will find much more deception than
sincerity. In the affections of youth there is an earnestness which is
the most natural and convincing that can be conceived; but as the heart
grows older, it gradually loses all this admirable freshness and purity,
and in a few short years it has recourse to artifices and disguises
without number. I detest deceit. I cannot imagine Eureka deceitful. I
hope never to find her so. To the truly devoted--to one who finds no
enjoyment like that which proceeds from honoring his adored as the
truest, the purest, and the best, there can be nothing so revolting
as the discovery that she whom he worships as one so pre-eminent in
goodness is the habitual practiser of contemptible deceits, hides
all her actions under a cloak of elaborate artifices, and lives in a
spider-like existence, spinning a dirty web to hide herself and betray
her victims."
"Eureka is of a very different character;" observed Zabra, who during
the preceding observations had appeared exceedingly confused. "She has
not deceived you in any thing which it was requisite for you to know.
She detests artifice as much as you do. But there are always some things
which the most sincere may find it necessary to conceal. The truth
cannot be spoken at _all_ times."
"You might just as well say that good money ought not to be passed at
all times;" said Oriel Porphyry. "That which is good ought to be good
upon all occasions, and truth is the very best of things in social
intercourse. It is the sterling coin of the affections; and she who uses
base counterfeits deserves the ignominy with which such vile cheating
should be punished. I have the very highest opinion of the female
character, and I desire always to think highly of womankind; but taking
the sex generally, I do sincerely think that they are amazingly fond
of disguising the truth as much as possible. It is a crooked policy--a
policy that in time poisons every better feeling a woman can possess.
Deception and a love of general admiration are her prevailing vices.
I am well aware that they are thought very innocent little foibles by
those who practise them, but on that account they are not the less
destructive to feminine excellence. Love is a passion of one for one
only. It ought to be excited by one object, and conferred on one object
alone. And thus exhibited, it is the purest, the most graceful, and the
most natural of human emotions. If either party introduce another as a
sharer in the affections, the whole feeling becomes tainted. What can be
more unjust to the lover who concentrates all his hopes on the exclusive
possession of the affections of the object of his fond idolatry, which
hopes have been called into existence by fond avowals and delicious
caresses, than for the woman whom he thus regards, to be just as
affectionate in her manner to a second, a third, a fourth, a fifth, and
a sixth? Some women seem to pride themselves on the number of their
admirers. What a miserable vanity it is! It is exactly the same feeling
with which an Eastern monarch used to regard the number of females in
his seraglio. Imagine the state of mind produced in a man of refined
intellect and delicacy of feeling at discovering that the lips he
thought sacred to his caresses were defiled by the caresses of another!
Or if she allow others merely to continue to profess to her their
ardent admiration, she evinces a neglect of the unalterable law of the
affections, which ought to be punished by contempt, scorn, and disgust."
"But no woman ought to be accountable for the admiration she may
excite;" observed Zabra. "The most virtuous woman may without the
slightest intention create an unhallowed passion in one of the opposite
sex."
"Women are remarkably quick sighted in every thing connected with the
affections;" replied the young merchant. "They can discover the earliest
signs of admiration, and every truly virtuous woman, if her sympathies
are pre-engaged, will endeavour to crush this feeling in the bud, and
show, by her displeasure and avoidance of the object, that he has
created no reciprocal emotion. If after such passion is declared she
continue to tolerate the attentions of her admirer, although she be
virtuous in other respects she has no conception of the nature of
perfect virtue. She is fostering an illicit feeling; she is encouraging
a passion she has no intention of indulging--a crime the most
destructive in its effects upon the happiness of the individual whose
passion she encourages; and as it is vicious in its tendency, because
it aims at indulgence at the expense of virtue, and as she assisted in
its developement instead of destroying it in its early growth, she is
answerable for all the consequences that may arise from its existence,
and has deserved the censure of being considered vicious in her
disposition. Toleration creates hope, and hope will love through all
difficulty; but no man, unless he be a fool or a knave, will love in
utter hopelessness."
"Surely these observations can have no relation to Eureka!" exclaimed
Zabra earnestly.
"Not the slightest;" replied his patron. "She is all I would wish her
to be; and the only cause of uneasiness she has given me during our
attachment is this mystery about the place of her concealment, and her
avoidance of any communication with me for so long a time."
"Your uneasiness will soon be removed, then, and the mystery will be
explained in a manner that will perfectly satisfy you;" said the youth.
"I hope so;" exclaimed his patron. "But I certainly do not like being
mystified by those in whom I take an interest. Mysteries, however, seem
most abundant around me just now. There is something very strange and
unaccountable in you, Zabra."
"Me! in me, Oriel?" replied his companion, in evident confusion. "What
can there be strange or unaccountable in me?"
"I have noticed many things in your behaviour exceedingly
extraordinary;" said the young merchant. "Your superiority to the
situation in which you were introduced to me has often made me imagine
that you are not what you assume to be."
"Not what I assume to be!" exclaimed Zabra in increased embarrassment.
"Is it possible I can be any thing else?"
"That is best known to yourself, and to her who sent you," replied
Oriel Porphyry; "but there certainly is a mystery about your character."
"A mystery! how strange you should imagine such a thing;" responded his
youthful companion, attempting to conceal his confusion.
"Then there's my father, he has _his_ mystery," continued his patron;
"it is some secret connected with that wretched aristocrat Philadelphia,
but what it is about he is not inclined to communicate."
"I have noticed it," said Zabra, recovering from his confusion; "and I
imagined it to be a knowledge of some circumstances connected with my
father's early life, the publication of which would do him very serious
injury."
"I cannot say what it is, but these things are very perplexing,"
observed the young merchant; "however, I hope to make my way through
them on my arrival at Columbia. How glad I shall be to see its glorious
shores again! Nothing is so likely to excite patriotism as exile; and
Columbia is a country worthy of one's patriotism; the first nation of
the world; its citizens have reason to be proud. I have beheld during
my voyage many lands and many people, but I have seen neither land or
people to be compared to Columbia and its inhabitants. I rejoice that I
am returning to them, and though I am glad that this voyage is nearly
at an end, I hope that my father will be gratified with my proceedings
during my absence; and then if Eureka's sentiments in my favour have
not undergone any change I shall have nothing to fear."
"Of Eureka's constancy you will soon be convinced;" said Zabra, in a
more subdued tone than he had previously used.
"I shall be delighted to find it so. But do you think that she would
have no objection to protect the gentle Lilya?" asked Oriel.
"None whatever;" replied his companion. "I am sure she will be much
gratified by your suggestion of such an arrangement. Lilya is timid and
perfectly ignorant of the world, yet she is docile and affectionate, and
with proper management I have no doubt she would become an amiable and
accomplished woman, qualified to adorn any rank in society."
"The creature is so shy that I can scarcely ever get a glimpse of her,"
observed his patron.
"She is almost always with me," said the other; "every thing appears to
be new to her on board the ship, and her pleasure at the novelties she
beholds is so genuine that it is delightful to see her. She requires a
companion, or she would feel quite alone amongst us; and I being about
her own age, she naturally feels more at ease with me than with any
other. Her diffidence is excessive; I cannot get her to associate with
any one except myself; but I have no doubt that in time she will gain
confidence, and join us in the cabin or on the quarter-deck with perfect
self-possession. She seems remarkably fond of music, and appears to
enjoy nothing so much as hearing me sing to her."
"Take care, Zabra;" said the young merchant, with a smile. "An ancient
poet has said that music is the food of love. The harmony of sweet
sounds, breathed around two such hearts as yours and Lilya's, will be
sure to put them in unison. If you go on in this way, existing in a
state of such intimate communion, it will be utterly impossible for
either of you to resist the soft influence of the tender passion, and
you have both of you arrived at a time of life when the disposition is
peculiarly susceptible to its impressions."
"There is no fear of such feelings being created, I assure you;" replied
Zabra.
"It seems to me very probable," observed Oriel; "your being so much
together is sufficient to produce such an effect. Besides, she is so
very pretty. What a depth of tenderness there exists in the soft blue
of her beautiful eyes! and her smile is positively exquisite. The rich
bloom of her complexion reminds me of some delicious fruit, it is so
warm, and soft, and tempting; and then the expression,--so innocent,
so artless, and so bashful, it is absolutely enchanting. I must not
forget her graceful figure, it is worthy of the highest eulogium for
being so delicately rounded. I am glad she has not thrown aside her
dress of skins and feathers, for, in my opinion, its simplicity and
picturesqueness would put fashion out of countenance. I never behold
her, whenever she does venture into my presence, but I imagine her to be
the Psyche of the heathen mythology, or some other amiable character in
that system of dreams:--the object of devotion to the immortal youth, or
the rosy cup-bearer to the gods. I assure you, I admire her very much."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Zabra, who had listened to these praises of Lilya in
evident uneasiness.
"Yes, she has interested me very deeply;" replied Oriel. "I am
charmed at the gentle being who has been so unexpectedly thrown on my
protection. I feel delighted at being able to gratify her unambitious
wishes; and when she comes shrinking into my presence, like a delicate
flower before the breeze, nothing pleases me so much as endeavouring to
assure her of her safety. And then the simple creature is so grateful,
and thanks me with such looks, that there is no resisting them."
Zabra's eyes gleamed restlessly, his lips became pale, and his cheeks
bloodless.
"I wish I could see her more frequently, and she would be somewhat
less reserved;" continued his patron. "It is so difficult to get her
to converse; yet her voice is so subdued and melodious that it is a
pleasure to hear her. It is seldom any thing beyond a murmur. She never
attempts to raise her voice into a more audible sound. She seems as
if she was afraid of hearing herself speak. After having been used to
the affectations and hypocrisies of female society, the artlessness
of Lilya's conduct and the purity of her nature becomes exceedingly
refreshing: I certainly do admire her very much."
Zabra, as if unable to conceal the emotions that were evidently
producing a most powerful effect upon him, with a look of indescribable
anguish hastily left the cabin.
"How strange!" exclaimed Oriel Porphyry, astonished at the sudden
departure of his young friend. "He must love her. I am certain from his
appearance while I was speaking in her praise, that he loves her, and
is jealous of the admiration I have expressed. How very strange!"
Zabra hastened to the quarter deck, where he sat himself down in a
retired corner, apparently in the most intense agony of mind. His dark
features were impressed with the workings of a violent passion; his
lustrous eyes shone with a brilliancy that was vivid and piercing to an
extraordinary degree; and his breast heaved with that full and rapid
pulsation of the heart which is the usual effect of great excitement.
Covering his face with his hands, he continued in that position for
several minutes. "That it should come to this!" he muttered in a voice
tremulous with emotion. "That it should come to this! What a reward
for all I have done and suffered! Oh agony insupportable!--Oh misery
scarcely to be endured! Where will the devoted heart meet with fidelity?
Where will the loving one, who feels and thinks and acts with no other
desire than for the happiness of the loved, meet with a like regard?
The dream is over--the delusion is passed--the hope which has led me on
seems utterly extinguished. But perhaps it may not be--I may be deceived
in my suspicions. It would look like injustice to condemn him without
a more perfect knowledge. I will observe them. But he said how much he
admired her; he said it to me!--Ah! it must be true."
Zabra was impatiently starting from his seat when he beheld Lilya
standing before him with every appearance of deep concern in her
countenance; he suddenly snatched her by the arm, drew her towards him,
and gazed in her face with a fierce and searching look.
"Why do you gaze on me thus?" inquired Lilya, shrinking from the stern
scrutiny to which she was being subjected. "Why is your look so dark? He
whom I used to call my father never looked thus on me, and you never so
regarded me before. Have I done any thing wrong, by which I could offend
you? How sorry I shall be if I have! Or are you ill? Let me endeavour
to make you better: I know where grow the healing herbs and the balmy
plants that are good for many different maladies. Let me gather them
and make you a drink such as may restore you to health; or shall I run
down the young leveret or snare the tender woodpigeon to procure you
delicate eating? Ah me! I forgot that I am not where either herbs or
plants, or leveret or woodpigeon are to be found, but on the wide waste
of sea, where neither green moss nor twining ivy, nor flowers, nor
trees, nor any leafy thing exists. But what can I do to make you
better?"
"Can I believe you?" asked her companion, relaxing in some degree in
the severity of his gaze.
"You can if you like, Zabra," replied the simple girl; "and I do not see
why anyone should not believe me, because I always speak the truth; and
why _you_ should not believe me seems so very strange. I always believe
you. I am sure you would not say any thing that was not true, and I
could not think of saying a word with an intention of deceiving you."
"You do not seem like one inclined to be treacherous;" observed the
youth.
"I never saw any one inclined to be treacherous, therefore I cannot say
whether I do or do not look in that way," said the girl; "but I am not
so inclined, that I am positive of, for I have nothing in the world
to be treacherous about, and it is impossible that I should ever be
treacherous to you. Now, Zabra, you look more like the good and kind
being I have known you to be. Ah! what a pleasure it is to listen to you
when you sing your delightful songs, or speak to me so persuasively of
virtue, and wisdom, and excellence, and all such admirable things. It
makes me forget how much I loved to watch the birds at their nests, and
the young kids at play; and hear the lark's song in the morning, and the
nightingale's at night. It makes me forget all my favourite haunts where
the choicest flowers used to grow. It makes me to forget all I once
found so pleasant to remember."
"You have noticed Oriel Porphyry, have you not?" inquired Zabra, fixing
on his companion a searching glance.
"Oh yes," replied Lilya eagerly; "he that is so noble looking. His eyes
are so bright, and his hair curls over his forehead so beautifully, and
he looks so kindly at me when I see him and talks to me so kindly, that
I like him very much."
"No doubt you do!" exclaimed the youth, with considerable bitterness.
"I have not been much with him, for I feel quite afraid of him;"
continued Lilya. "He seems to me so very grand and proud in his
appearance, that I dare scarcely look at him when we meet, and as for
speaking I have then neither voice nor words. But he appears so good.
He takes my hand in his, and he presses it so gently, and he says to
me such encouraging things, and he looks upon my face with so much
earnestness, that----"
"Oh it's palpable!" cried Zabra, hastily interrupting his companion,
and regarding her with a gloomy scowl.
"That I cannot help feeling that I like him very much; and, although
I am afraid to utter a sentence, he still continues his kindness, and
never lets my hand go from his. However, I must try to tell him how
grateful I am. It is very foolish of me, I believe, in not saying how I
feel towards him. But how you look at me, Zabra!" exclaimed Lilya, as
she noticed the dark and angry expression of her companion's features.
"Is it displeasing to you that I do not express the sentiments I
entertain? I will confess them. Are you angry because I do not like
him so well as I ought to do? I will like him ever so much more."
"Truly, you are obedient!" observed the other, with sarcastic emphasis;
"a pattern of one who is willing to please! There cannot be a question
about your dutifulness. Dupe, that I have been not to see your
artifices! But who could have supposed that, under such apparent
artlessness, there lurked so much treachery? Your deceit is well done.
None would suspect it. It is the most finished piece of falsehood that
ever was acted."
"Falsehood! Deceit! Treachery!" exclaimed Libya, astonished and alarmed
by the violence in the language and conduct of her companion. "What are
such things to me, Zabra? I know them not. They cannot be for me to
use. Oh, why do you look at me in so unkind a manner? They are not the
looks that make me happy. I see you are angry with me, and I know not
for why. I must have done some great wrong, or you would not behave to
me in a way so unlike what you have used me to. And, indeed, I did not
do it intentionally. I would not have offended you if I could have
avoided it. What shall I do? Tell me what I shall do to acquire your
forgiveness, and I will never repeat the offence again."
"And do you think that I will now believe these professions?" inquired
her companion, with considerable asperity. "Do you think, after having
been once deceived, I would allow myself to be the victim of the same
deception? Oh no! that can never be. You are discovered. I know you
thoroughly. Away with you, and let me no more be made miserable by your
presence."
"Alas! alas! what heinous wrong have I done?" exclaimed Lilya, as the
tears made their appearance on her cheeks. "I know not what it is--I
cannot imagine any thing, unless it be my behaviour to Oriel Porphyry,
that offended you. I acknowledge he deserved better treatment; but, if
it be your desire, I will immediately go and tell him all that I think
of him: and when he looks so kindly, and talks so kindly, and presses my
hand----"
"Away, vile hypocrite!" shouted Zabra, as with looks of indignation and
rage he pushed Lilya aside, and rushed from the place. She gazed after
him without uttering a word. Her spirit appeared quite overwhelmed; and
all the confidence she felt in his society completely deserted her. The
heart of the timid girl seemed filled with a sense of desolation she had
never before experienced, and she sat down in the seat he had vacated,
and wept. Here she remained, in the full consciousness of her
unprotected state, till the sound of approaching footsteps made her
hurriedly seek concealment in some obscure part of the ship.
"The Albatross is crossing the Atlantic in very brilliant style, I
think;" observed the young merchant.
"Yes, sir, she does spank along pretty smartly," replied the captain.
"But it's utterly impossible for a better bit o' timber to be found.
She's been tried in all sorts o' weathers, in all sorts o' seas; and no
matter whether we were doubling the Cape, or beating about in that ere
terrible monsoon in the Bay o' Bengal, she stood on her feet like a
trump, and answered to the helm as sensible as any born cretur."
"Our passage home will be brief and pleasant, I should imagine, from the
portion we have passed," remarked Oriel Porphyry.
"There's no knowin' sir," said old Hearty, seriously. "Sometimes it's
fair weather and sometimes it's foul, and sometimes it's a bit o' both.
The weather's the most unsartaintest thing in nature; it puzzles the
wisest on us. It's quite optional whether it has a mind to blow one way
or t'other, and sometimes it seems as if there was a reg'lar blow up wi'
ev'ry wind as blows, and they gets a skylarking wi' one another most
considerably."
"I am very anxious to return to Columbia with as little delay as
possible," observed the young merchant. "My not having received any
communication from my father, and my knowledge of the unsettled state of
the country, makes me fear that the government have got the upper hand
again, and that they have made my father the victim of their vengeance."
"They daren't harm him, sir," replied the old man; "they daren't harm a
hair o' his head; they knows of old how popular he is, and how popular
he desarves to be; and they must have a pretty considerable winkin' that
they'll be left among breakers if they 'tempts to steer that course. I
arn't no great politician, but it's as plain as a marlin spike to me,
that if they bore down upon master Porphyry after that fashion, they'd
get such a broadside from the people as 'ould sew 'em all up in their
hammocks in very little time."
"I hope I shall arrive before they can execute their evil intentions, if
such intentions they have," remarked Oriel. "In case I should require
their services, do you think I could depend on the crew of this ship?"
"On ev'ry mother's son of 'em," said the captain, with emphasis. "Ev'ry
man in the vessel's selected, and most ov 'em have sailed wi' me at
some time or other. There arn't a braver or more skilful crew afloat;
and if 'tis required that they shall bear a hand in defence o' master
Porphyry, I've got a notion there's nothin' they'd do wi' half so much
'lacrity. Master Porphyry ha' done so much good in his time that there's
scarcely a cretur livin' as has'nt through his friends or relations
profited by it in some degree, and it arn't in the natur o' a seaman not
to be grateful. As for me, when I've had never a shot in the locker,
master Porphyry, more nor once, has made me comfortable inside and out,
and sent me afloat, laden wi' summat else besides ballast; and if I
don't stand among the foremost in any shindy as you've a mind to kick
up, and don't sarve out the lubbers as would be tryin' to circumvent
your honourable old father, I'll give you leave to slice me into
pea-shells and dish me up into hogswash."
"I'm perfectly satisfied with your fidelity, captain," said the young
merchant, "and I am very much gratified by hearing that I can depend
upon the crew. There's no knowing what may happen, and you and your
men might render me service of the highest value. If the struggle
I anticipate is to be made, every brave man will be an important
acquisition."
"If we could only get together all the craft as master Porphyry
possesses, scrunch me! if we shouldn't be able to turn 'em inside out,
wi' as much ease as a fellow might take in a reef," exclaimed the old
man.
"That cannot be done without the sacrifice of more time than I can
spare," observed Oriel. "My great object is to arrive in the metropolis
before the government can find an opportunity for working out its
schemes, as I feel convinced that they only wait occasion to resume the
influence of which they were dispossessed. If I am in time to prevent
their intrigues, I will speedily take such measures as shall put it out
of their power to make any attempt of the kind; and if the mischief
should be done previous to my arrival, I will make such a stir in the
country as shall shake them out of their ill-got authority before they
have had time to exercise it."
"I maintain that the ancients greatly excel us!" exclaimed Fortyfolios
in a loud voice, as he approached the place where the captain and the
young merchant were conversing.
"And I maintain quite the reverse, don't you see," replied the doctor.
"Think of their universities, their schools, their royal academies
of painting and music, their royal societies for the advancement of
science, their extensive libraries, their galleries of art, and the
wonderful d
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