“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
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,
“And what was the result?” inquired Oriel.
“To use the simple and expressive words of the poem,” replied the professor, with his usual gravity,
“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:—
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—
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.
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:—
“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.
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,—
“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.
“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.