Story of Philip Brusque.
CHAPTER VII.
A new effort to form a government.—Speeches.—Anarchy and violence.—Despotism.
The morning after the events detailed in the last chapter, was one of deep interest to the people of Fredonia. Brusque, in connection with others, had taken pains to call a meeting of all the men, to consult once more upon events of common importance, and to make another effort to form some kind of government, that might establish order, protect life, and ensure freedom. There were none whose feelings were more deeply enlisted than those of the women; and, as is usual with this sex in matters of a public nature, they were on the right side. They felt their own weakness and dependence, and appreciated the necessity of government and law to protect them from brutality and violence. Nor did they feel alone for themselves; they perceived that where there is no government, there can be no safe and comfortable home; that children cannot live quietly and securely with their parents; that everything we cherish in life is insecure, and liable to be taken away by the wicked and the violent.
The several dwellings of the settlement being near together, on the occasion of which we are speaking, the women were gathering in groups, with anxious faces; those who had young children, were seen hugging them to their bosoms, as if, before night, these innocent and helpless things might have no other protection than a mother’s arm could give. There was much passing to and fro among them, and they spoke with their heads close together, and in whispers, as if fearful of being overheard.
At nine o’clock in the morning, persons began to assemble upon the southern slope of the beautiful hill on which the cave called the “Castaway’s Home” was situated. It was a lovely spot, covered with a thick clump of palm-trees, and commanding, through the openings of the branches, a wide prospect of the surrounding ocean. All the men of the island were soon there, and as they gathered under the trees, they were divided into two groups, by their sympathies, feelings, and purposes, though not by design. In one group was the father of Emilie, M. Bonfils, a man of more than seventy years, whose locks were as white as the snow, and whose face beamed at once with benevolence and spirit. There was, however, in his countenance, at this time, a mingled look of grief and anxiety by no means usual to him. By his side sat all the oldest men of the company, together with Brusque, and most of the educated and intelligent men of the island.
The other group was composed of Rogere, most of the sailors, and several other men. They were generally young persons, whose education had been neglected, and whose course of life had left them to the indulgence of their passions. There were two or three of them who were kind-hearted, though ignorant and simple men.
The two parties consisted of about equal numbers, some twenty of each. They sat for some time, looking each other in the face, but saying little. The Rogereites looked gloomy and scowling; the Brusqueites had an air of anxiety, but still of resolution. It was apparent to all, that, if something could not be done for the cause of good order on the present occasion, riot and bloodshed were likely to be the inevitable and immediate consequence.
After a long period of silence, M. Bonfils, being the oldest man in the assembly, arose, and proposed that they should come to order by choosing a moderator to preside over the assembly. There was instantly a shout of “M. Bonfils! M. Bonfils!” and as Rogere’s people took no part, one of the men put it to vote whether M. Bonfils should preside, and it was decided in the affirmative. The old man, therefore, taking off his broad-brimmed palm-leaf hat, his long white hair floating down upon his shoulders, stood before the company. His lip quivered, and for a moment he seemed hardly able to utter a word; but at length, in a tone tremulous and faint, and exceedingly touching from its thrill of feeling, he spoke as follows:
“My friends and compatriots; we are all members of the great human family, companions in the misfortunes that have borne us hither, and the mercy which has saved us from a horrible fate. We should then have a common feeling; we certainly have the same interests.
“I ask you to come to the consideration of the great question to be proposed here to-day, with a sense of our responsibility, and a due regard to these considerations. The question to be here proposed is, I believe, whether this little community shall be delivered from that state of lawless anarchy and violence which now afflicts it, and be blessed with a government that shall at once secure liberty and peace. The real questions are these: Shall our lives be secure? Shall our homes be safe? Shall our wives and children live in quiet? Shall right, and not might, be the governing principle of society?
“It is to decide questions thus vital to our happiness and that of those who are dependent upon us, that we have now met; and I beg you as fellow-men, as brothers, as friends and neighbors, as you value life, and liberty, and justice, and a good conscience, to come to their consideration ready and determined to act for the best good of the greatest number. Let no man act for himself alone; let no man indulge prejudices or private feelings. Let us look to the good of all—the best interests of society, and proceed accordingly.”
Having uttered these words, the aged moderator sat down upon a little elevation that was near. There was then a deep silence around. At last Rogere arose, and every eye was fixed upon him, while he spoke as follows:
“Mr. Moderator; I respect the feelings that have dictated the speech just uttered by yourself. I acknowledge the obligation to cast aside selfishness, and look only to the public good. But in reasoning according to my sense of duty, I come to a very different conclusion from what some others do. We are all bound to consult the greatest good of the whole; but how shall we do it? That is the question. We have already met once before, and the persons here present, after mature deliberation, have decided that they will have no other government than such as is founded in nature; they have decided that an artificial system of government and laws only tends to mischief, to enslave the many and favor the few. Then why this meeting? Are we a parcel of boys or silly women, as fickle as the winds, undoing one day what we have done another?
“Sir, I am opposed to a constitution; I am opposed to enacted statutes and laws. I am opposed to kings, presidents, judges, legislators, and magistrates. What are these but public blood-suckers, living upon the toil and sacrifices of the rest of the community? Away with them, and let every man do what seemeth good in his own eyes. Things will all get adjusted to this system in good time. There is an instinct in the animal tribes which is thought to be borrowed from divine wisdom. The heron and the bittern are astronomers and navigators by nature; they know by instinct what man learns with difficulty. They are legislators too, but that divine instinct bids them leave things to their natural course. The strongest, by necessity and the laws of nature, become the leaders, and the rest have only to follow and obey. This is the great system of the universe; and man, by adopting an artificial scheme of government, is only sinning against nature, history and experience. I move you, therefore, that this assembly do now adjourn.”
Scarcely had Rogere finished, when his party shouted in the most animated manner, and there was a look of satisfaction and triumph in their faces that seemed to say that their leader had settled the whole question. When the applause had subsided, the moderator stated that there was a motion to adjourn, and asked if any one had anything to say against it. Upon this, Brusque rose, and spoke as follows:
“Mr. Moderator; you have already stated the high and solemn purposes of this meeting. We are to decide, in the first place, whether we will adopt some form of government, and if so, what system shall be established? At the very outset, and before the subject has been discussed, a motion is offered that we adjourn. It is moved that we separate, and leave this little colony to that anarchy which is now desolating the island. We are asked to adjourn, and follow the bittern and the heron as our examples in legislation. Man is to be the pupil of the bird; the brute is to be the lawgiver of human beings!
“What, sir, is the state of things? Riot, crime, and violence are now the order of the day. One murder has already been committed, and the man whose hand is stained with his brother’s blood is here, as free as the rest; and that murderer’s hand is lifted up in an assembly, as if entitled to all the privileges of citizenship. Sir, look at the fruits of the island, lately so abundant; they are fast disappearing, for no one has any interest to preserve or increase them. Not only are we in a state of confusion and fear, not only are the women and children in the community in distress from apprehension, but, sir, our means of living are wasting away,—starvation is at our very doors.
“And what is the remedy for all these evils? A good government, that shall parcel out these lands to the people, and secure to each man his own; a good government, that shall protect a man in his home, his earnings, his property; a good government, that will enforce right and restrain might; a good government, that will punish murder, theft, violence, and crime. This, and this alone, will bring peace to the island; this, and this alone, will give security and happiness to all. Let us have a government, to secure the rights of the people and punish injustice, and this island may become a paradise. Its rich hillsides and lovely valleys will be cultivated, and will produce the greatest abundance of comforts and luxuries. Let us have protection to life, home, and property, and commerce will spring up, and we can get from other lands all that they produce which can minister to our enjoyment.
“Who will till the soil, if any man stronger than himself can drive the laborer away and take the produce? Who will toil, if the violent, and selfish, and powerful man may take away the result of that toil? Sir, we are told to follow nature, to look to the instinct of animals for a guide. And is man, gifted with reason, to throw that reason aside and follow instinct? The proposition is absurd. If we follow animals, we must adopt their modes of life. If you adopt the government of wolves, you must live in rocks and dens, feast upon blood, and have no other covering than nature provides. If you allow the strong to take what they can grasp, we go back at once to the savage state.
“Let us then be more wise, more reasonable, more just. Let us remember that we men act not only for ourselves, but for others. I beseech you to look upon the anxious groups of wives, mothers, and daughters in that little valley, whose hearts are now palpitating with anxiety; they are waiting the result of our deliberations, as involving interests more dear than life to them. Let them know that you have this day resolved to establish a good government, and they will ask ten thousand blessings on your heads. Let them know that this state of anarchy is to continue, and they will mourn the day that saved them from the billows to which the relentless pirate had doomed them.”
This speech of Brusque’s had an evident effect, and when the question of adjournment was put, there was a majority against it. Brusque, greatly encouraged, then rose, and moved, that it was the sense of the assembly that the best good of the people required the immediate adoption of some form of government. No sooner was this motion put, than Rogere, fearing that it might be carried, sprang to his feet, and, drawing a dagger, brandished it in the air, at the same time addressing his party as follows:
“My friends, are you not sick of this folly, this hypocrisy, this child’s play? Away with it all! let us be men—let us be free. Down with that hoary fool, and this false-hearted knave!” Saying this, and pointing to M. Bonfils and Brusque, he led the way, and rushed upon them. His men followed as with one impulse. The aged moderator was struck to the ground by a single blow, and Brusque, taken by surprise, was thrown down, and two stout men, seizing upon him, tied his hands and feet fast. The rest of Brusque’s party, after a short skirmish, fled down the hill to the village, where they were received with cries of consternation and despair.
M. Bonfils and Brusque were taken to the “Castaway’s Cave,” which Rogere now made his head-quarters, and where his party soon assembled. After a brief interval, it was proposed by one of the men that Rogere should be chief of the island, with full power in his hands to govern as he pleased. His motion was carried by acclamation, and M. Bonfils and Brusque were required to give their consent. Refusing to do this, they were bound and taken into one of the lower apartments of the cave, and, totally unable to move, they were left to themselves.
(To be continued.)