Basil returned, bringing with him the great bird. It was a female--as
Lucien knew--and one of the largest, being over twelve pounds in weight,
and measuring seven feet between the tips of the wings when expanded.
The bird of this species rarely exceeds eight pounds in weight, and is
proportionately small in other respects.
The white-headed eagle (_Falco leucocephalus_), or "bald eagle," as he
is generally called because his white head gives him somewhat of a bald
appearance--has been adopted by the United States as the emblem of their
Republic. If his disposition be considered, he would be a more fit
emblem for a band of robbers--for a more absolute robber and tyrant does
not exist among the feathered races. He robs the osprey of his fish,
and the vulture of his carrion; in short, lords it over every creature
weaker than himself. Now this is not the character of the nation he
represents--far from it. It is true they have shown a desire to extend
their territory, and have made conquests to this end. But what is the
motive of these conquests? Is it to enslave and render tribute? No.
They conquer not _to enslave_, but to _make free_! There are two
motives for Anglo-American--I may say Anglo-Saxon, conquest, for _true_
Englishmen feel these motives as much as Americans do. They wish to
bring the whole world under a liberal form of government--one that will
bear the scrutiny of reason--one that in time may extinguish crime, and
render poverty a thing of the past--one that is not a patent usurpation
and a robbery--a robbery perhaps more criminal in the eyes of God than
waylaying on the highroad, or piracy on the high seas--more criminal,
because more extensive in its fatal effects. Anglo-Saxons wish to
destroy despotism, lest they or their descendants might again become
what their ancestors once were--its victims. This, then, is one motive
of their conquests, and it is nothing more than the naked instinct of
self-preservation. But there is another motive--a nobler and more
generous one. They have drunk from the cup of Liberty--the draught has
pleased them, has given them happiness and joy; and, urged by that
better part of our nature, they wish to share that sweet cup--ample for
all--_with all men_. This is the true motive of the conquest of
civilisation; and under the banner of such a cause, it is a question
whether war and anarchy and confusion be not preferable to the deceptive
peace and _apparent_ prosperity of despotism, that, like the
death-dealing vampire, soothes while it destroys.
I do not say that _all_ Americans nor _all_ Englishmen are entitled to
the glory of such a holy motive for conquest. No. Too large a
proportion, alas! are actuated only by the ignoble idea of selfish or
national aggrandisement. The robber is often found in the same camp,
and fighting under the same banner, with the soldier of Freedom. It is
not strange, therefore, that the _true_ sons of Liberty should sometimes
be associated with its _bastard_ children of the shackle and the whip.
But, I shall not weary you with any more political science. Not that I
consider it of small importance to you. On the contrary, I deem that
science the _most important of all others that have ever occupied the
attention of men_. Its influence extends to almost every object around
you. It shapes the carriage in which you ride, and the ship in which
you sail. Its knowledge modifies the nature of your soul, and decides
whether you shall be a slave or a freeman. It even extends to the form
of your body, giving it the abject attitude and gloomy aspect of slavery
and guilt, or the bold, upright carriage and joyous look of virtue,
which God gave to the first man when He made him after His own image.
But come, boy reader! I have promised not to weary you with these
things. Such teachings I must reserve for a future opportunity; when,
God willing, I shall present them to intellects older than yours.
Perhaps you yourselves may then be old enough to take an interest in
them; and if so, you may learn some truths that for long years have been
the study of your friend--the author.
Now let us return to the eagle. I am thinking what a pity it is that
the Americans should have chosen this tyrant-bird as the emblem of their
liberty; for, although he is _most appropriate_ for _one portion_ of
their people, he is far from being a fit emblem of the principles of the
great republic. So thought the wise Franklin. There are many other
animals, peculiar to the territory of the United States, far more
deserving of the distinction. There is the bold but harmless buffalo,
the stately elk, and the industrious beaver; or if a bird must needs be
upon the banner, where could one be found better suited to that end than
the wild-turkey, possessing as he does a combination of good qualities--
grace, beauty, courage, and usefulness? Thus reasoned Franklin; and it
might be yet worth the while of the American people to give
consideration to his reasoning, and discard the eagle; or, at all
events, change the species--for peculiar to the United States territory
there is another bird of the kind, far nobler, as well as larger and
more beautiful.
It is curious to observe how many countries have adopted this rapacious
bird for their emblem; and it forms a sad index to the motives that have
hitherto actuated nations. In ancient times it was seen upon the
banners of Persia and Rome. In modern days Napoleon spread its wings
like black shadows over France. It is the emblem of Russian despotism
and American freedom. Austria, Prussia, Poland, Sicily, Spain,
Sardinia, and many of the small governments of Germany, look up to the
eagle on their standards; while, upon the other side of the Atlantic, it
waves over the great nations of the United States and Mexico, as well as
several of the smaller republics. Why, a general war among the nations
of the world would be almost exclusively a war among the eagles! It is
not improbable that the _lion_ would insist upon having a claw in the
quarrel; although his honesty and nobility of disposition are very much
doubted, particularly by the jackal and some other animals. He is,
therefore, no better qualified to act as the representative of a pacific
people than the very worst of the eagles; but he fortunately has a wise
keeper, called Public Opinion, who of late has held him under some
restraint.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What a chain of destruction!" exclaimed Lucien. "One creature preying
upon another."
"Ay," added Francois; "and how curious it should begin with a bird and
end with a bird. Look at the two together. Ha! ha!"
As Francois made this remark, he pointed to the little humming-bird and
the great eagle--which had been laid side by side upon the grass, and,
sure enough, presented in size and appearance a most singular contrast
to each other.
"You forget, Francois," said Lucien, "there were two other links to the
chain, and perhaps many more."
"What other links?" demanded Francois.
"The humming-bird, you remember, when attacked, was himself a destroyer.
He was killing the little blue-winged fly."
"That is certainly another link, but--"
"Who killed the eagle?"
"Ah, true! Basil, then, was the last link in the chain of destruction."
"Perhaps the most criminal, too," said Lucien, "because the least
necessary. The other creatures were but following out their instincts
to procure food, whereas Basil's only motive was one of wanton
destruction."
"I beg to differ with you, Luce," said Basil, interrupting his brother,
sharply, "it was no such thing. I shot that eagle because he killed the
kite, and robbed him of his prey, instead of using his industry and
getting food for himself. That's why I added a link to your chain."
"In that sense," replied Lucien, smiling at his brother--who seemed a
little ruffled at being thus charged with unnecessary cruelty,--"in that
sense you were, perhaps, justifiable; though it is difficult to
understand why the eagle was more guilty than the kite himself. He took
only one life, and so did the kite."
"But," rejoined Basil, "in addition to taking away the life of his
victim, he robbed him. Robbery and murder both. Now the kite was
guilty only of the latter."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Lucien and Francois together. "There _is_ a
distinction with a difference!"
"But, brother Luce," inquired Francois, "what did you mean when you said
there might be many more links to this chain?"
"Why, who knows but the blue-winged fly was preying upon some other
creatures smaller than himself? And these again, upon others still
less; who, though invisible to our eyes, possess life and organisation
as well as we. Who knows to the contrary? And who knows the reason why
a mysterious Providence has created those beings to be the food of each
other? That is a question about which we can arrive at no satisfactory
conclusion."
"Who knows, brother," said Francois, "since you are speculating--who
knows but there may be an extra link at the other end of the chain? Ho,
Basil! what say you? Suppose we fall in with grizzly bears." And
Francois laughed as he put the question.
"And supposing we do," replied Basil, "_you_ are as likely to form that
link as anybody else."
"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Lucien. "I hope that in all our travels we
shall see neither a grizzly bear nor an Indian."
"And I hope for nothing of the sort," rejoined Basil. "I long to have a
crack at a grizzly; and as for Indians, I haven't the least fear of
them, so long as I carry this."
As Basil made this remark, he drew out the little beaded case from his
bosom, held it up a moment, and then returned it to its place again.
"Now, brother," cried Francois, "tell as about that pouch, and how it is
to save us from Indians. I am really curious to know."
"Not now, my boy," replied Basil, with a patronising air. "Not now. We
must prepare our supper, and get to sleep. We have lost half a day
drying our rags, so we must make up for it by an early start in the
morning. Then for the prairies!"
"Then for the prairies!" echoed Francois,--"the prairies--the wild
horses--the big-horns--and the buffalo!"