“It was my duty to open the business of the day. Much as I feared the coming warfare, knowing that success could only be gained at the expense of incalculable misery and suffering, I felt the painful truth that the end justified the means, and endeavoured to prepare myself, as well as my excited feelings would allow me, to take my share in the approaching struggle. I abhor bloodshed; from my heart and soul I loathe it. I would have sacrificed myself willingly to obtain justice for my fellow-citizens; but justice seemed a thing only to be procured by force. I addressed the meeting. I felt that the labours of a long life, endured to create a more general happiness, were about to be risked in a strife of brother against brother. All that I had endeavoured to avoid would now become unavoidable—the reign of discord would commence—the wounds I had healed would break out afresh—the good I had done would be turned to evil—the felicity I had created would end in wretchedness. With these convictions of the mind, the sympathies of the heart may easily be imagined. I at first addressed the meeting as if mourning at the funeral of my own hopes. I related all that had been endured, and the eyes of my attentive auditors seemed to burn with indignation, and their brows scowled with resentment. I described the patience with which all had been endured, and their looks were restless and gloomy. I detailed every instance of contempt with which that patience had been regarded, and the breasts of the strong men heaved with passion, and their glances were stern and fierce. I told them how much I lamented the blindness and obstinacy of their rulers, and showed them the deep and just cause I had for that regret; but having stated that all had been attempted that the most patriotic philanthropist could have suggested to escape unshackled from the evils with which we were threatened, I told them that nothing now was to be done to preserve our liberties but to maintain them by force of arms. Twenty thousand eager voices, joining in one continued cheer, testified their readiness to follow the suggestion. ‘A long life has been devoted to your service,’ said I, ‘whose greatest pleasure has been created by the pleasures it has been enabled to diffuse. I would much rather that the life had been prolonged to continue its enjoyment in the same gladdening labour; but our rulers have willed it otherwise. I cannot end my existence as hitherto it has proceeded—not in the sweet indulgence of my friendly feelings towards my species—not in the observance of the tranquil bliss they have produced. No matter! I have ever been devoted to your service; my life must end in pursuing the same duty. I will stand by you in the struggle you must now commence; and all the power and wealth and influence I possess shall aid you in obtaining its successful issue.’ Cheers rent the air—such cheers as, if they had heard them, and seen the immense multitude from whom they proceeded, emulating each other in the expression of their grateful enthusiasm, would have made our ministers glad on any terms to undo the mischievous work they had executed.
“Many influential persons spoke to the same effect; and it was agreed that as large a body of men as could be got together should go to the emperor’s palace, and desire the instant abrogation of the unpopular edicts. If they met with force, it was to be resisted; and as soon as the struggle became inevitable, the bells of the different churches were to be rung to arms, and a simultaneous attack made on all the military positions, so as to prevent the troops leaving their barracks while the emperor’s palace was stormed. This plan was no sooner agreed upon than it was resolved to be put in immediate execution, to prevent the government taking measures to prevent its success; and a general rendezvous having been appointed, every man left the meeting with the intention of preparing himself for the fray. I had returned home, melancholy, I must acknowledge; for I could not reflect upon the dangers to which the mass of my fellow-citizens would soon be exposed without feelings of the deepest anguish; and I had scarcely crossed my own threshold before I saw that the place was filled and surrounded by armed men, by whom I was immediately seized, treated with every indignity, dragged through the streets to a dungeon, and, after having been loaded with heavy chains, there left to the contemplation of darkness and filth.
“The promptness and secrecy of my seizure I had not expected, or I should have been prepared for resistance; and now I had but little hope of ever being of the slightest service to any individual; for if my friends succeeded in their exertions, they knew not the place where I was confined, and were not likely during my existence to discover it, so that my prospect was but a cheerless one. It was some hours before I could distinguish with any accuracy the features of my prison. At last, when my eyes got used to the darkness, I noticed that it was a narrow cell, built of huge masses of stone. On one side, at the top, was a small grating of iron, through which sufficient light entered to make the darkness evident. The door was of iron, and it opened inwardly. The floor was of stone, damp and cold. It was about seven feet by five in size, and about ten feet in height. The place seemed never to have been cleansed: it was fouled with every abomination, and vermin, toads, and other loathsome objects abounded within its walls. Disgusting as such a place must be to one used to comfort and convenience, I began to grow careless of its horrors, and thought only of the effect my incarceration would have upon my fellow-citizens. It was not so secretly done as to prevent all knowledge of the transaction, and the few to whom it was known, I knew would lose no time in making their intelligence public. There would then, I felt convinced, commence a desperate struggle; and which ever side had the victory, it could not be gained but at the expense of a degree of human suffering, the imagination of which filled me with pain and fear.
“While engaged in these thoughts, I heard footsteps approaching—they stopped at the door—the strong bolts were undrawn, and a man, muffled up in a large cloak and high slouched hat, entered the cell. He stopped before me. I thought he was going to put me to death. I could see nothing of his face but two large dark eyes glaring upon me with a malignity I should have thought it impossible any human being could feel. He spoke, and I knew the voice. It was Philadelphia.
“‘So ho, old plotter of treason!’ he exclaimed exultingly, ‘you are now in safe keeping, I think. Nothing would serve your plebeian soul but to hatch rebellion. You could leave your beggarly buying and selling to plot the overthrow of the state. You thought, doubtless, it would be an easy matter to exterminate the power of the government, and felt assured you should have but little difficulty in seating yourself upon the throne of the Emperor. Ha ha! A fine plot truly: and a most admirable successor you would make to our gracious monarch. But I had due notice of your infamous designs. I have watched you long, old traitor! and only waited an opportunity for putting an end to your ambitious career. The object I sought is accomplished. How like you this dungeon? it is not exactly the palace you expected. And these chains, they are not so comfortable as the robe of state with which you imagined your vulgar limbs would be adorned?’
“Truly the dungeon is not agreeable, and the chains do feel rather heavy,” said I, mildly.
“‘Be satisfied,’ replied he in a tone of mockery; ‘you will get used to them, and they will last your time. I came to gratify myself by observing how you bore this sudden change in your fortunes. You are tired of lamenting your miserable fate; you have exhausted your imprecations upon me and my coadjutors in the government; you—’
“Common sense forbid that I should curse myself or any one, for it could do no one any good, and might do myself harm,” said I.
“‘’Tis all hypocrisy!’ exclaimed Philadelphia, ‘your heart is now ready to burst with vexation—your soul is full of hatred—your mind is intent upon revenge.’