More particulars of Philip’s early life.
Our story, thus far, has shown us that absolute liberty cannot be enjoyed except by an individual in solitude, where he has no intercourse with his fellowmen. It shows us that as soon as individuals, even supposing that there are only two of them, come to live together, some rules, by which they may regulate their conduct, become absolutely necessary. In other words, people cannot live together in society without government; even two persons on an island find that, to prevent quarrelling, they must define their mutual rights and privileges; or, in other words, they must enact laws; and these laws, we perceive, are restraints upon natural or absolute liberty. The farther progress of our story will show how an increasing community, with more varied interests, requires a more extended and minute code of laws.
But before I proceed further, let me tell you something more of Philip Brusque’s early history. He was the son of a brickmaker of St. Addresse, a small village in France, near the flourishing seaport of Havre, which you know is situated at the mouth of the Seine. Philip was early taught to read and write, but he paid little attention to these things in his boyhood. He was more fond of action than study. He spent a great part of his time in wandering through the deep dells that surrounded his native village, or in walking along the high chalky bluff that formed the neighboring sea-shore. Here he particularly loved to spend his time, looking out over the sea for many leagues, and tracing the progress of the ships, bearing the flags of many nations, that ploughed their way upon the bosom of the Atlantic.
In this way, he formed habits of reflection; and though he loved stirring excitements, still Philip was a thinking youth. At the same time he was of a sanguine temper, ardent in his feelings, loving and hating strongly, and readily believing what his wishes and his hopes prompted. Thus he grew up to the age of twenty, without a settled profession, sometimes working at his father’s trade, and sometimes serving as mate of a small vessel that plied between Havre and Bordeaux.
About this period, the public mind in France had begun to be agitated by the coming tempest of the revolution. In every city, village, and hamlet, the people were talking about government, liberty, and the rights of man. The people of France had long been subject to kings, who had claimed a right to reign over them, even without their consent, and they had reigned in such a manner as to make the people miserable. The people were now examining into this claim of their kings, and they had already discovered that it was founded in injustice. Unhappily, they fell under the guidance of bloody and selfish men, and for many years the sufferings of France in her struggle for liberty and human rights, were greater than they had been under the despotism of her worst kings.
Philip Brusque engaged very ardently in the political discussions that resulted in the revolution, and when Paris became the great theatre of action, he resolved to quit St. Addresse, and proceed to the metropolis, to take his share in the great drama that he felt was about to be acted. He took leave of his parents, and went to bid adieu to Emilie Bonfils, whom he had long loved, and to whom he was affianced. The parting was tender, for Emilie was well worthy of the affection of the gallant youth, and her fears were now excited for the fate of her lover. He was not only to leave her, but he was to be exposed to the convulsions, which already, like the heavings and swellings which portend the earthquake, began to be realized throughout France. But Philip’s mind was too much influenced with the spirit of the time, which, like the hot sirocco of the desert, seemed to sweep over the land, to be delayed or dissuaded. He gave his Emilie a long and ardent salute, and on foot wended his way to Paris.
I have told enough of what followed, for the purposes of my story. Philip’s active mind and devoted spirit raised him to a certain degree of power and distinction in the revolution; he rode for a time on the storm, and shared in the scenes of blood and horror. He was indeed accessory to many of the atrocious executions, which, in a spirit of madness and fury, were decreed and sanctioned by the leaders. But in all this, Philip was rather insane than selfish. Indeed, he was intoxicated by the whirl of events, and he yielded to the current. At length, he became sensible of his error, but before he had the opportunity of atoning for it, he was obliged to fly for his life. He wished to see his aged parents, and his mind turned more than once to his gentle, confiding Emilie, at the village of St. Addresse. But there were many reasons for his not going to see them before his departure. The first was, that it was not safe, either for himself or them; and the next was, that he now began to consider his hands sullied with the blood of his fellow-men, in such a manner as to make him unfit for the pure affections either of his parents or his affianced Emilie. Indeed, such was the idea he had formed of the latter, and such was the true affection and reverence that he entertained towards her, and such, at the same time, was his feeling of repentance and remorse, that he shrank from the idea of attaching her to one like himself, and dragging her down from the dignity of truth and purity, to the lot of one who was sullied with crime. Accordingly, he wrote a letter to his parents and Emilie, explaining his feelings and designs, and bade farewell to his country, as we have seen. The letter he wrote did not reach its destination, but, falling into the hands of Robespierre and his associates, became the source of bitter persecution to those for whom it was intended.
CHAPTER IV.
A Ship appears in view.—Pirates ashore.—A scene at night.—Recognition of an old Friend.—Alarming Discoveries.—A fearful Plot.—An Explosion.—Arrival of about seventy persons at Fredonia.
We return to Brusque on the island of Fredonia. A few weeks after the adoption of the constitution as before related, a fine vessel, in full sail, appeared near the island. Brusque and Piquet saw it with a mixture of emotions. She seemed to be crowding all her sails, and sweeping before a brisk breeze. When first seen, masts and sails only were visible, but now her full hull was in view. At length, she came so near that both Brusque and his companion could distinctly see the people on board.