A man may be formed by nature for an admirable citizen, and
yet, from the purest motives, be a dangerous one to the
State in which the accident of birth has placed him.--
STEPHEN MONTAGUE.
The night again closed., and the student once more resumed his labours.
The spirit of his hope and comforter of his toils sat by him, ever and
anon lifting her fond eyes from her work to gaze upon his countenance,
to sigh, and to return sadly and quietly to her employment.
A heavy step ascended the stairs, the door opened, and the tall figure
of Wolfe, the republican, presented itself. The female rose, pushed a
chair towards him with a smile and grace suited to better fortunes, and,
retiring from the table, reseated herself silent and apart.
“It is a fine night,” said the student, when the mutual greetings were
over. “Whence come you?”
“From contemplating human misery and worse than human degradation,”
replied Wolfe, slowly seating himself.
“Those words specify no place: they apply universally,” said the
student, with a sigh.
“Ay, Glendower, for misgovernment is universal,” rejoined Wolfe.
Glendower made no answer.
“Oh!” said Wolfe, in the low, suppressed tone of intense passion which
was customary to him, “it maddens me to look upon the willingness with
which men hug their trappings of slavery,--bears, proud of the rags
which deck and the monkeys which ride them. But it frets me yet more
when some lordling sweeps along, lifting his dull eyes above the fools
whose only crime and debasement are--what?--their subjection to him!
Such a one I encountered a few nights since; and he will remember the
meeting longer than I shall. I taught that ‘god to tremble.’”
The female rose, glanced towards her husband, and silently withdrew.
Wolfe paused for a few moments, looked curiously and pryingly round,
and then rising went forth into the passage to see that no loiterer or
listener was near; returned, and drawing his chair close to Glendower,
fixed his dark eye upon him, and said,--
“You are poor, and your spirit rises against your lot, you are just, and
your heart swells against the general oppression you behold: can you not
dare to remedy your ills and those of mankind?”
“I can dare,” said Glendower, calmly, though haughtily, “all things but
crime.”
“And which is crime?--the rising against, or the submission to, evil
government? Which is crime, I ask you?”
“That which is the most imprudent,” answered Glendower.
“We may sport in ordinary cases with our own safeties, but only in rare
cases with the safety of others.”
Wolfe rose, and paced the narrow room impatiently to and fro. He paused
by the window and threw it open. “Come here,” he cried,--“come and look
out.”
Glendower did so; all was still and quiet.
“Why did you call me?” said he; “I see nothing.”
“Nothing!” exclaimed Wolfe; “look again; look on yon sordid and squalid
huts; look at yon court, that from this wretched street leads to abodes
to which these are as palaces; look at yon victims of vice and famine,
plying beneath the midnight skies their filthy and infectious trade.
Wherever you turn your eyes, what see you? Misery, loathsomeness, sin!
Are you a man, and call you these nothing? And now lean forth still
more; see afar off, by yonder lamp, the mansion of ill-gotten and
griping wealth. He who owns those buildings, what did he that he should
riot while we starve? He wrung from the negro’s tears and bloody sweat
the luxuries of a pampered and vitiated taste; he pandered to the
excesses of the rich; he heaped their tables with the product of a
nation’s groans. Lo!--his reward! He is rich, prosperous, honoured! He
sits in the legislative assembly; he declaims against immorality;
he contends for the safety of property and the equilibrium of ranks.
Transport yourself from this spot for an instant; imagine that you
survey the gorgeous homes of aristocracy and power, the palaces of the
west. What see you there?--the few sucking, draining, exhausting the
blood, the treasure, the very existence of the many. Are we, who are of
the many, wise to suffer it?”
“Are we of the many?” said Glendower.
“We could be,” said Wolfe, hastily.
“I doubt it;” replied Glendower.
“Listen,” said the republican, laying his hand upon Glendower’s
shoulder, “listen to me. There are in this country men whose spirits not
years of delayed hope, wearisome persecution, and, bitterer than all,
misrepresentation from some and contempt from others, have yet quelled
and tamed. We watch our opportunity; the growing distress of the
country, the increasing severity and misrule of the administration, will
soon afford it us. Your talents, your benevolence, render you worthy to
join us. Do so, and--”
“Hush!” interrupted the student; “you know not what you say: you weigh
not the folly, the madness of your design! I am a man more fallen, more
sunken, more disappointed than you. I, too, have had at my heart the
burning and lonely hope which, through years of misfortune and want, has
comforted me with the thought of serving and enlightening mankind,--I,
too, have devoted to the fulfilment of that hope, days and nights, in
which the brain grew dizzy and the heart heavy and clogged with the
intensity of my pursuits. Were the dungeon and the scaffold my reward
Heaven knows that I would not flinch eye or hand or abate a jot of heart
and hope in the thankless prosecution of my toils. Know me, then, as
one of fortunes more desperate than your own; of an ambition more
unquenchable; of a philanthropy no less ardent; and, I will add, of a
courage no less firm: and behold the utter hopelessness of your projects
with others, when to me they only appear the visions of an enthusiast.”
Wolfe sank down in the chair.
“Is it even so?” said he, slowly and musingly. “Are my hopes but
delusions? Has my life been but one idle, though convulsive dream? Is
the goddess of our religion banished from this great and populous earth
to the seared and barren hearts of a few solitary worshippers, whom all
else despise as madmen or persecute as idolaters? And if so, shall we
adore her the less?---No! though we perish in her cause, it is around
her altar that our corpses shall be found!”
“My friend,” said Glendower, kindly, for he was touched by the sincerity
though opposed to the opinions of the republican, “the night is yet
early: we will sit down to discuss our several doctrines calmly and in
the spirit of truth and investigation.”
“Away!” cried Wolfe, rising and slouching his hat over his bent
and lowering brows; “away! I will not listen to you: I dread your
reasonings; I would not have a particle of my faith shaken. If I err,
I have erred from my birth,--erred with Brutus and Tell, Hampden and
Milton, and all whom the thousand tribes and parties of earth consecrate
with their common gratitude and eternal reverence. In that error I will
die! If our party can struggle not with hosts, there may yet arise some
minister with the ambition of Caesar, if not his genius,--of whom a
single dagger can rid the earth!”
“And if not?” said Glendower.
“I have the same dagger for myself!” replied Wolfe, as he closed the
door.