most earnestly to tell me the wrong I have done, that I may repair it
before I die. I am quite certain that I have never done any one an
intentional injury; but if I have left undone any good which I might
have done, I consider that I have done an injustice, and would remedy it
before it be too late. Speak, my fellow-citizens; tell me what injuries
against you I have committed."--There was an eloquent silence, that
lasted for several minutes. Each man looked at his neighbour, and all
saw that the philanthropist had no accuser.
"There is one more subject to which I wish to draw your attention, and
it is the last," said Master Porphyry, in a voice less firm than had
distinguished the delivery of the preceding portion of his discourse.
"I have a son. My persecutors, while punishing me, have thought proper
to make my child a beggar;--_that_ I feel. He possesses many good
qualities--many good qualities likely to render him an excellent
citizen. Let me bequeath him to your care."--A simultaneous shout of
assent from the immense multitude proved that the appeal had not been
made in vain.
"And now that I have left nothing undone, and nothing untold, I must
take my leave of you."
"No, no!" was shouted by every voice.
"My dear friends, it must be," continued Master Porphyry; "I am taking
up the time of these good people; and although it is a pleasure for me
to linger among you, I must not purchase it at the expense of trouble to
others. I should leave you with a cheerful heart, if I had not upon me
the fear that there is much suffering preparing for you; and I should
die without an unkind feeling against any human creature, if I did not
possess at this time a natural indignation against your oppressors. For
myself I have no fear--those who have wronged me I forgive; but I have
the feelings of a man and a citizen, and I cannot forgive the enemies
of my country."--Groans and indignant exclamations here rose on every
side. "I implore you to desist from the exhibition of any acts of
violence with the hope of procuring my liberation. There is not a chance
of success. You will be slaughtered in crowds the first attempt of the
kind you may make. Let not my last moments be made wretched by seeing
your blood shed unavailingly. If I have done that which seems good in
your eyes, it was with the desire of gaining your love that I did it.
Have I succeeded?"--An universal shout of assent burst from all parts of
the crowd.
"Then I die with the proudest satisfaction I could enjoy under the
circumstances. I hope you will raise for me no useless monuments. I
desire that when I am dead my unprofitable body may meet with no funeral
honours. If I have done that which is honourable, honour me in your
remembrance. If I have done that which is good, teach your children to
do as I have done. With my best wishes for your happiness--with my most
earnest aspirations for your enfranchisement, I can now lay my head
upon the block. Grieve not because I die: you should rejoice that your
fellow-citizen can die without dishonour."
"We'll avenge you, our benefactor!" shouted a voice from the crowd.
"We'll be revenged on your murderers!" exclaimed another.
"Down with the tyrants!" cried a third. Similar exclamations followed,
and the masses of the people seemed in great commotion, pressing forward
towards the soldiery with groans, hisses, and execrations; but when the
different regiments made a movement forward and presented their arms
as if about to fire, the multitude fell back, and order was restored
amongst them.
"Think of your sins, unhappy man," said the priest, with a hypocritical
visage, who was one of those bigots who put on the garment, and know
nothing of the spirit, of religion;--"think of your sins, and repent,
for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."
"I would repent, good sir," replied Master Porphyry, mildly, "if I
thought I had any thing of which I could repent; or if I thought I
could do any good by repenting."
"Confess your sins against your God! confess, and be saved! There is
salvation for the worst of sinners," drawled out the other.
"I am not aware of having committed any sins," said the philanthropist;
"therefore I can have no confession to make."
"How have you served your Creator? What has been your religion?"
inquired his companion, sharply.
"I have considered that philanthropy was the only true religion, and I
have practised it," replied master Porphyry; "and I felt convinced that
the right way of worshipping God was by doing all the good in my power
to my fellow-creatures; and from that way I have never deviated."
"Atheistical, abominable, atrocious, heretical, and damnable!" exclaimed
the priest, with a look of horror. "You are in the hands of the devil.
The church renounces you. Flames and brimstone must be your portion;
wailing and gnashing of teeth your reward."
The philanthropist looked surprised; but turning to one of the
assistant executioners who stood at a short distance, he said, "I am
ready." The man instantly proceeded to disrobe him of his upper garment,
and arranged his dress so that the whole of his neck was bare.
"I would rather have died in that robe," observed he; "for I like not
parting with the honours that have been bestowed upon me. However, it
is gratifying to know that I have never disgraced it. It can give me
no distinction where I am going, therefore there let it lie."--His
countenance every moment appeared to become more benevolent in its
expression; and there was a nobility in his manner that commanded
respect from all around him.
"Kill me as quickly as you can, my good friend," said he to the
executioner; "but after you have killed me you may do what you please."
The citizens had watched with breathless interest the preparations for
Master Porphyry's execution; but when they beheld him kneel down before
the block, and saw the headsman raise his axe, a shudder seemed to pass
over the whole multitude. At this instant a proud-looking man, in a
military costume, appeared upon the scaffold; and, immediately he was
observed, a yell of execration arose from the quadrangle, and from every
place that could command a view of the platform. The officer stood up
his full height, and looked down upon the people with glances of scorn
and contempt. Groans, hisses, and curses became louder and more general.
"Death to the persecutor!" shouted one.
"Down with the oppressor!" cried another.
"Yell on ye wretched rabble!" exclaimed the object of their indignation,
his mustachios curling with a contemptuous sneer, and his eyes flashing
with malignity. "It matters not to me what is said by such vile hounds.
Yell on then, it does my heart good to hear ye; and ye know full well ye
dare not do any thing else." Then turning round to Master Porphyry, he
said, "I have come to testify my loyalty by beholding the death of a
traitor."
"There is no traitor here, Philadelphia," replied the philanthropist,
mildly, "unless it be yourself."
"Oh, the hated tyrant!" shouted some of the multitude.
"The curses of the people are upon thee, thou miserable slave!" cried
others.
"Down with him! Down with the despot! Down with the enslaver of his
country!" exclaimed the rest. At this instant a banner was raised near
the centre of the quadrangle, with the inscription upon it, in large
letters, of "PORPHYRY, OR DEATH!" It was the signal for an immediate
rush towards the scaffold. With one simultaneous cheer the vast
multitude hurried forwards, burst in upon the troops, and with frantic
rage began to struggle with them for the possession of their arms. A
volley of musketry from an opposite window at this moment killed the
executioners and several others, and the rest, with the exception of
Philadelphia and Master Porphyry, took to flight.
"Leap down here, my benefactor, and I will save you," shouted a voice
from beneath the platform.
"You shall not escape me a second time, my enemy," muttered the noble
as he drew his sword, and with a look of mingled hatred and ferocity
exclaimed, "Thus I punish a traitor!" as he drove the weapon through
the body of his companion.
The philanthropist gazed on his murderer, more in sorrow than in anger;
and the only words he uttered, before he dropped down dead on the
platform, were, "MY BROTHER!" The miserable fratricide seemed confounded
by the avowal; but little time was allowed him for reflection. Curses,
yells, screams, groans, and execrations burst from the assembled
citizens as they noticed the death of their chief magistrate; and
Philadelphia fell by his side, pierced by a hundred bullets. A shout
of triumph arose when they beheld the fall of the tyrant; and, as if
inspirited by the sight, they threw themselves upon the soldiery in
countless masses, and endeavoured to drag them from their horses, or
wrest their weapons out of their hands. In this manoeuvre, although it
was attended by immense loss of life, many succeeded; but the strength
and discipline of the troops at last prevailed, and the citizens were
forced out of the quadrangle; and when the artillery began to play upon
them they dispersed in all directions.
The soldiery were now forming ready to make a charge in case the people
should re-assemble, when from the stone buildings at the corner of the
avenue a most destructive fire of heavy cannon was opened upon them.
Every window in the neighbourhood was broken by the concussion, and the
havoc made in both the horse and foot regiments was excessive. The word
was given for the foot soldiers to endeavour to take these buildings by
assault, and they marched forward for that purpose; but directly they
came near enough, a continuous stream of bullets issued from every place
that could command a shot at them, and they fell back in confusion.
Again they advanced to the assault, pouring in a steady fire at the
windows; but these spaces were blocked up with sand-bags, allowing only
sufficient room for a ship's gun to be run in and out, and they were
defended by the crew of the Albatross, under the command of their
veteran captain. After fighting their way through all opposition,
assisted by detachments from the fleet, and by the citizens, they had
dragged the guns through the city, and when the people made their attack
upon the soldiers, they were preparing their batteries. The military
again came to the attack, amid the enthusiastic cheers of the brave
sailors; and although they persisted for a long time in endeavouring to
obtain possession of the buildings, they were repulsed and retreated in
disorder.
The artillery was then brought to bear upon the place, but scarcely
had it been placed in a proper position, before it was rendered
unserviceable by the destructive fire from the batteries; and the troops
finding that they were being mowed down without a chance of silencing
their opponents, charged up the avenue--the horse supported by the foot
regiments. Here they were met by a fire of musketry from the houses
on each side, and having passed a short distance amid showers of
heavy missiles, that were hurled down upon them from the tops of the
buildings by the enraged citizens, they came to a barrier hastily
erected of stones and earth, from which a murderous fire from three
thirty-two pounders opened upon them as they advanced, throwing the
cavalry into confusion, and causing them to retreat in disorder upon
the infantry.
Here they were joined by a strong reinforcement, consisting of several
thousand fresh troops, and a charge was made upon the barrier which,
after an obstinate resistance, was forced. They then proceeded onwards,
exposed to a destructive fire from the neighbouring houses; but they
had not advanced above a hundred yards, when they were thrown into a
complete derout by the hasty retreat of a regiment of horse, which fell
back upon them, scattering dismay and terror into their ranks. Shouts of
triumph were heard in the distance, accompanied by the fierce roar
of cannon, and the rattle of frequent volleys of musketry. While the
whole military force was on the point of endeavouring to find safety
in flight, they were joined by another large reinforcement, and the
cavalry having re-formed as soon as they beheld the new troops, they
moved forward in a body to where it was evident that a violent contest
was raging. They continued to meet parties both of horse and foot flying
from the scene of action; and these were received into their ranks.
Having passed through several streets, fighting at every step, they
advanced under a broad archway into an open park. Here a tremendous
battle was still going on. The two contending armies were placed
opposite each other, and had been engaged for several hours attacking
each other's positions, and defending their own. The army of the people
had taken up a position on a slope with a plantation of fine oak trees
on one side, and a deep but narrow rivulet on the other. Their centre
was composed of the national guards; their right wing consisted of a
body of several thousand sailors; and their left was a body of armed
citizens equally numerous, supported by several batteries, and a reserve
of cavalry. They were opposed by the flower of the emperor's troops;
but their superior discipline and military skill availed them nothing.
Although the citizens suffered severely from the attacks which were
made upon them, they increased in numbers every hour. Thousands joined
their ranks; new batteries were raised; and while the enemy was losing
strength, they were increasing their forces.
Oriel Porphyry, on his landing, made for the rendezvous which had been
agreed upon. Here he placed himself at the head of his own regiment of
dragoons; with which, assisted by the citizens from their houses, he
attacked several parties of the military that paraded the streets. The
national guards then began to make their appearance in great numbers;
and these having provided themselves with arms from the gun-shops while
the young merchant kept the imperial troops employed, soon collected
together and marched to his assistance. Finding himself in two or three
hours at the head of a body of nearly twenty thousand men, willing to
follow wherever he led, he left the street-fighting to the citizens, and
sending several detachments in different directions, so as, as much
as possible, to divide the attention of the military, he took up the
position that has been described, in the park, with the intention of
attacking a large body of troops there posted.
The battle began by a division of the imperial troops attempting to
force a bridge over the rivulet, which was defended by the sailors,
supported by several pieces of cannon. The attack was continued with
great spirit, reinforcements arriving almost every half hour; but it was
defended with equal bravery, and the soldiers were beaten back every
time with very great loss. Two regiments of cavalry then were sent
against it, but the bridge being narrow, only a few could attempt to
cross at a time, and these were brought down by the cannon and musketry
as soon as they made their appearance. The lower part of the bridge
became blocked up with dead bodies, and the cavalry, after repeated
efforts, were obliged to retreat, having lost nearly one third of their
number.
An attempt was now made on the wood by a strong party of infantry, while
the cavalry in great force made an attack upon the centre; but a strong
palisade had been raised among the trees, from which the citizens,
in almost perfect security, poured a deadly fire upon the advancing
columns, which thinned their ranks rapidly; and the national guards
having formed into square, as the cavalry advanced, received them
with such streams of bullets, that they staggered and fell back. They
repeated the attack several times, and always met with the same result.
While these proceedings had been going on, Oriel Porphyry had given
orders for the sailors to pass the bridge, whom he supported with his
cavalry, and they fell with irresistible impetuosity upon the left wing
of the enemy, which had been considerably weakened by its unsuccessful
attacks upon the bridge.
The young merchant dashed on at the head of his dragoons, exhibiting the
most daring valour. He had had three horses killed under him during the
battle, and had been wounded in several places, but he continued his
brilliant career, making both cavalry and infantry fly before him. The
left wing, after a brief resistance, gave way, and they were in full
retreat when they were met by the soldiers who had been on guard in the
quadrangle. Immediately they fled, he made a desperate attack upon the
enemy's rear, and the national guards making a charge at the same moment
all along their line, the imperial troops were thrown into inextricable
confusion, and the reinforcement which made its appearance only came in
time to be mixed up in the general rout. They were pursued from street
to street without the slightest cessation; and so general was the panic
that spread among them on their retreat, that they flung away their
arms, and dispersed in every direction.
A few days after the transactions just narrated the city seemed as
if dressed for a festival. The houses were decorated with garlands
of flowers, flags, and pieces of rich tapestry, and the windows and
house-tops were crowded with elegantly dressed females, and the citizens
in their holyday-dresses. Every face seemed breathing gladness, and
every eye beamed with delight. The long thoroughfares were thronged with
spectators, all of whom wore the same joyful expression of countenance;
they were waiting the expected return of Oriel Porphyry from his last
battle with the enslavers of his country, in which the emperor had been
slain, and his forces completely discomfited.
Distant shouts of triumph announced the approach of the young conqueror;
and every neck was stretched out, and every eye turned in the direction
from whence the sounds proceeded. The cheers of the excited citizens
became gradually more loud, and the impatience of the inhabitants of
the houses more conspicuous. At last the measured sound of military
music came upon the ear, and in a few minutes the whole force of the
metropolitan national guards marched by; every regiment with its band
playing and its ensigns waving; after them came a car, drawn by four
milk-white horses, on which lay the body of the philanthropist in his
robe of honour; it was followed by Oriel Porphyry, or, to give him his
proper title, the prince of Philadelphia, bare-headed, on a powerful
war-charger, who seemed by his prancings and curvettings, proud of the
noble burden he carried. Blessings were showered upon him from every
side; flowers descended on his head, and all hailed him as the deliverer
of his country. His handsome countenance and manly figure never appeared
impressed with such a nobility of character as when he bowed in
acknowledgment of the universal enthusiasm which was excited in his
favour. Eureka rode at his side, expressing by her beautiful countenance
the delight she experienced. His own regiment of cavalry came next,
and they were followed by the crew of the Albatross, and of the other
merchant vessels that had assisted him in the struggle. Nothing was
heard among the people but cheering and exclamations of praise; nothing
was seen but the waving of caps and handkerchiefs.
In the course of the same day Oriel Porphyry was declared emperor of the
Columbians; and when he ascended the throne of his country Eureka shared
in his glory.
THE END.
LONDON:
Printed by A. SPOTTISWOODE,
New-Street-Square.
Transcriber's Note
A table of Contents has been added.
Text in italics has been placed between _underscores_ and text in small
capitals has been changed to all capitals.
Some punctuation errors have been corrected silently. Inconsistent use
of quotation marks in some parts of the book has not been changed.
The following corrections have been made, on page
15 "Chinberkin" changed to "Climberkin" (the strong grasp of Boggle
and Climberkin that prevented)
32 "ome" changed to "some" (I offended some and surprised others)
98 "shrunkback" changed to "shrunk back" (She shrunk back from)
109 "acknowment" changed to "acknowledgement" (from my
acknowledgement of these sentiments)
129 "because" changed to "became" (and the farmers became fishermen)
178 "n" changed to "in" (in evident confusion)
178 "trange" to "strange" (can there be strange or unaccountable)
182 "Lilya'" changed to "Lilya's" (such hearts as yours and Lilya's)
200 "thumber" changed to "number" (or the mere number of books
comparatively useless)
279 "misable" changed to "miserable" (a very shocking miserable
sinner).
Otherwise the original was preserved, including archaic and inconsistent
spelling and hyphenation.