“There is one more subject to which I wish to draw your attention, and it is the last,” said Master Porphyry, in a voice less firm than had distinguished the delivery of the preceding portion of his discourse. “I have a son. My persecutors, while punishing me, have thought proper to make my child a beggar;—that I feel. He possesses many good qualities—many good qualities likely to render him an excellent citizen. Let me bequeath him to your care.”—A simultaneous shout of assent from the immense multitude proved that the appeal had not been made in vain.
“And now that I have left nothing undone, and nothing untold, I must take my leave of you.”
“No, no!” was shouted by every voice.
“My dear friends, it must be,” continued Master Porphyry; “I am taking up the time of these good people; and although it is a pleasure for me to linger among you, I must not purchase it at the expense of trouble to others. I should leave you with a cheerful heart, if I had not upon me the fear that there is much suffering preparing for you; and I should die without an unkind feeling against any human creature, if I did not possess at this time a natural indignation against your oppressors. For myself I have no fear—those who have wronged me I forgive; but I have the feelings of a man and a citizen, and I cannot forgive the enemies of my country.”—Groans and indignant exclamations here rose on every side. “I implore you to desist from the exhibition of any acts of violence with the hope of procuring my liberation. There is not a chance of success. You will be slaughtered in crowds the first attempt of the kind you may make. Let not my last moments be made wretched by seeing your blood shed unavailingly. If I have done that which seems good in your eyes, it was with the desire of gaining your love that I did it. Have I succeeded?”—An universal shout of assent burst from all parts of the crowd.
“Then I die with the proudest satisfaction I could enjoy under the circumstances. I hope you will raise for me no useless monuments. I desire that when I am dead my unprofitable body may meet with no funeral honours. If I have done that which is honourable, honour me in your remembrance. If I have done that which is good, teach your children to do as I have done. With my best wishes for your happiness—with my most earnest aspirations for your enfranchisement, I can now lay my head upon the block. Grieve not because I die: you should rejoice that your fellow-citizen can die without dishonour.”
“We’ll avenge you, our benefactor!” shouted a voice from the crowd.
“We’ll be revenged on your murderers!” exclaimed another.
“Down with the tyrants!” cried a third. Similar exclamations followed, and the masses of the people seemed in great commotion, pressing forward towards the soldiery with groans, hisses, and execrations; but when the different regiments made a movement forward and presented their arms as if about to fire, the multitude fell back, and order was restored amongst them.
“Think of your sins, unhappy man,” said the priest, with a hypocritical visage, who was one of those bigots who put on the garment, and know nothing of the spirit, of religion;—“think of your sins, and repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”
“I would repent, good sir,” replied Master Porphyry, mildly, “if I thought I had any thing of which I could repent; or if I thought I could do any good by repenting.”