Story of Philip Brusque.
CHAPTER X.
Pacification.—Another attempt to adopt some form of government.
The morning that followed the battle of the tents, and the death of Rogere, was fair and bright. The sun, at rising, seemed to burst from the bosom of the briny element, at the same time converting its boundless surface into a mirror of burnished gold. The light clouds that hung in the east, in long horizontal lines, were also of a golden hue, betokening at once the gentleness of the morning breeze, and the fair weather that was to characterize the day. M. Bonfils, as he stepped forth from the tent, and felt the fresh air, and looked abroad, could not but be struck with the beauty of the scene around. “It is indeed a lovely morning—and this is a heavenly climate,” said he, half audibly. “Oh, that the human beings upon this lone island, would look forth upon nature, and take a lesson of peace from its teaching!”
As he said these words, he was met by Brusque, and several other persons, who had been deliberating as to what course ought to be pursued. No communication had, as yet, been had with the defeated party at the cave, and the state of feeling there was a matter of entire uncertainty. After a little conversation, M. Bonfils offered himself to go alone to the cave, and propose some amicable adjustment of difficulties. To this, Brusque as well as others objected; urging upon the hoary patriot the danger of placing himself in the power of these violent men, recently defeated, and likely still to be irritated by the death of their leader. But these reasons did not shake the old man’s purpose. He replied that he feared no danger; that the Rogere party would probably be more reasonable now than before; that his very helplessness would disarm their vengeance; and that even if they took his life, it was but the remnant of an existence, now near its close, and which he could well afford to risk for the sake of his friends.
Finding him entirely devoted to the adventure, Brusque withdrew his objections, and the aged man departed, taking no weapon of defence; supported, however, by a light bamboo cane, for his step was tottering, and his frame frail, from extreme age. The people saw him take his way up the hill, with anxious and admiring eyes, and there was more than one cheek down which the tears stole, showing that their hearts were touched by the fortitude and devotion of the patriarch.
In a brief space after the old man had gone, Brusque and François, unnoticed by the people, wound their way around the trees, and ascended to a sheltered spot, near the cave, to be in readiness to offer succor, should any rudeness or insult be threatened to M. Bonfils. From this cover, they saw him approach the cave, around which about a dozen men were standing. They were all armed, and appeared to be in expectation of attack, yet ready for desperate defence. There was a determination and daring in their looks, which alarmed both François and Brusque: and it was with a feverish interest that they saw the old man, tottering indeed, but still with a calm and tranquil aspect, march directly up to the party, take off his hat, and speak to them as if the emotions of fear were unknown to his bosom.
“I have come, my friends,” said he, “for I will not call my fellow-men enemies—I have come to speak to you of peace. I have come in the name of those who are your countrymen, in behalf of mothers, sisters, children, to beg you to lay down your weapons, to lay aside all thoughts of war; to”—
“Down with the old fool!” said a rough voice; “let us hear no more of his twaddle.” “Nay, nay!” said another; “none but a brute will injure an old man: let’s hear him out. It can do us no harm.”
This seemed to be acceptable to the party, and M. Bonfils went on.
“I pray you to listen to me for a moment. Look around upon this island; is it not a little paradise? How beautiful are the skies above; how glorious the sun that shines upon it; how soft the breezes that fan its surface; how luxurious the vegetation that clothes its swelling hills and its gentle vales! Was this spot made for peace or war? Is there a heart here that can look around, and not feel that nature whispers a lesson of peace? Does not every bosom whisper peace? Does not common sense teach us peace? What can we gain by strife, but evil? Can it promote our happiness to slay each other like wild beasts? If we are to have war, and blood is to be shed, will the conquering party enjoy their victory, when they are forever to live in sight of the graves of their butchered brethren?
“Oh my friends—my countrymen—take an old man’s counsel: no one can be happy, if others are not happy around him. If one of us become a despot, and his will is law, he will still be a wretch, because he will be in the midst of the wretched. Every human bosom reflects the light or the shadow that falls on other bosoms. Man cannot live for himself alone. Let us then be wise and live for each other. Let us enter into a compact to secure each other’s peace. Let us adopt a system of government, which shall secure equal rights and equal privileges. This is just, fair, and wise. It is the only course to save the inhabitants of this island from misery and desolation. This is my errand; I came to pray you to throw aside your weapons; I came to beg that what is past may be forgotten. I propose that you reflect upon these things; and that, as soon as may be, you send a deputation to the party at the tents, to acquaint them with your decision.”
Saying this, the old man departed.
This mission was not without its effect. The party at the cave took the subject into serious consideration, and though there was a division of opinion, yet the majority concluded that it was best to accede to the offered terms of pacification. They accordingly appointed two of their number, who went to the tent party, and proposed that another attempt should be made to establish some form of government.
This proposition was at once accepted; and a committee, consisting of five persons, was appointed to draw up a constitution. The result will be given in another chapter.