The Continental Monthly, Vol. 6, No. 6, December 1864. Various
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Название: The Continental Monthly, Vol. 6, No. 6, December 1864

Автор: Various

Издательство: Public Domain

Жанр: Политика, политология

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СКАЧАТЬ 'Have I ever so dearly cared for life that I should thus guard it at the expense of honor? While I was a free man, in my native Rhodes, with my wife and children around me, did I not then risk my life among the very first? And am I likely to value it the more now that I am a slave, with wife torn from me and sent I know not where, with children slain one by one, as the only means of capturing me, with the accursed livery of the arena placed upon me that I may administer to their gaping appetite for blood? Can all this make me love my life more than I have ever loved it before?'

      'But wait—only wait. There will come a time—'

      'Ay, ay; there will come a time is what all say, and will continue to say, and yet the time comes not. There is never any time like the present. All around me are thousands of men, once free and now chained into slavery—and chained, perhaps, more through their own indolence than by the power of their masters; and yet they lie supine, and call upon each other to wait! And to-morrow there will be a thousand such in the arena, and instead of rising up together in their strength, they will fight only with each other. What might not that thousand accomplish, were they to act together in brave and earnest revolt? What chance would a few hundred pampered pretorians have of staying the flood? There, seated in fancied security upon their benches, will be the emperor, the court, the nobles, and the most wealthy of the empire. In one hour of action, we could sweep these away like chaff, together with all else that is held most worthy of place and power in the whole empire! And yet these thousand slaves will not rise up together with me, and it will not be done!'

      The head of the Hercules dropped upon his chest with a gesture of despair.

      'You say truly,' responded the other. 'It will not be done, for they will not act with you. And what can you do alone?'

      'Nothing—nothing; I see it all. I am powerless,' murmured the first. 'Well, I will be patient, and dissimulate. I will do as you request, Gorgo. I will restrain myself. As for this man—this imperator—why should I there wreak my vengeance upon him? It would only be giving to the rest of the people an unlooked-for sight—a newer pleasure, that is all. I will therefore act the part of a good and faithful slave—will kiss the rod held over me—and will duly serve my master by slaying my adversary, whoever he may be, and thus winning that store of gold pieces which have been laid out as the stake of my life. And then—then I will go home to my kennel and my bones. But this I swear, by the immortal gods! that I will follow this man from house to forum, wherever he may go, until I find a proper chance to strike him down in secret like a dog. You were right. I must not lose my life to kill him, when I can so easily slay him and yet live to slay other men as bad as he. My life is for other things. And when the time comes that I can raise the standard of insurrection, will you then—'

      'Then I will be with you heart and soul forever, until our freedom is built up on the ruins of this accursed Rome!' cried the other, striking his hand responsively into the outstretched palm before him. And the two men again took up their walk, and passed on until they were swallowed up in the darkness and their voices, growing more and more indistinct, were finally hushed.

      THE VISION

      INSCRIBED TO TEACHERS TO CONTRABANDS IN THE SOUTH

      Lo! a picture came before me

      Of a million broken chains,

      Lying cankered with old blood-drops

      Which had oozed from tortured veins,

      Reddening the fleecy cotton

      Snowed upon the Southern plains.

      And the picture's tints grew deeper,

      Redder, blacker, as I gazed,

      And my weak knees smote together,

      And my eyes grew dim and glazed,

      At the vision's spectred horrors

      From the graves of vengeance raised.

      For, where liveoaks and magnolias

      Gloom the earth with densest shades,

      Where the snake and alligator

      Lurk in endless everglades,

      Where the cloud-lace-fretted sunset

      Lingering, longest night evades,

      Where the eagle builds his eyrie

      Nearest to the fervid skies,

      Where the buzzard swoops to fatten

      On the prey that lingering dies,

      Where the bloodhound's hellish baying

      Stills the hunted bondman's cries,

      There uprose, all ghostly shadowed,

      Hosts of wasted, haggard forms;

      And their wild eyes glared and glittered

      Like heaven's fire in dark-browed storms,

      And with outstretched arms toward me

      They came rushing in thick swarms.

      And I saw upon their foreheads

      Letters where the irons burned,

      And their backs left gashed and harrowed

      Where the lash for life-blood yearned,

      And their lank limbs, fester-eaten,

      Showed where gnawing shackles turned.

      There were gaunt and frenzied mothers

      With wan children in their arms,

      There were youths, and there were maidens,

      Curses, tears, and wild alarms,

      There were auction blocks and hammers

      Where were bartered beauty's charms.

      Ah! my heart grew chill within me,

      And my 'frighted blood congealed,

      As my soul's eye raised the shadows

      Which like curtains half concealed

      Deeper horrors, depths of anguish

      Left till God's day unrevealed!

      And my soul went up in sighing

      To God's ear: 'And Thou dost know,

      High and Holy! men are devils,

      Earth, like hell, is drowned in woe?'

      Came an answer: 'Hark! my war-blast

      Dealing sin a staggering blow!'

      'Father! though the chains be broken,'

      Cried my soul, 'the wounds remain,

      Deeper than the irons wore them,

      'Neath the brow within the brain,

      'Neath the body in the spirit!

      Peals Thy war-blast not in vain?

      'How shall knowledge, how shall virtue

      Dwell with ignorance and sin?

      Where is found that earthly saintship

      Can consort with devils' din?

      Who the saintly self-denying

      Through bell's door would look within

      'E'en to save the devil's victims,

      Snatch them from the cooling flames,

      Kiss with love their long-charred spirits,

      Breathe new souls into their names,

      Wing them to the climes supernal,

      And to angels' loud acclaims?'

      Then came answer: 'Lo! I call them,

      Ministers of love, I call!'

      Then I waited in СКАЧАТЬ