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exhibited by the government they superseded.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are unsettled, the public confidence is withdrawn, the reverence for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."