The Convict: A TaleJames, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
General
The Convict: A Tale
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
Prisoners -- Fiction
"It did," answered Clive; "for I had barely time to send my own two
men away to a distance, and get others, in whom I could better trust,
to help me. I had no means either of giving you warning that there was
a great movement at Barhampton, and that the officers were evidently
on the look-out for some one on the coast. You only said that you
would land in the cove between nine and ten, and that I must show a
light due east of the cove mouth to guide you, as there was no moon. I
had nothing for it, therefore, but to make ready against attack, in
order that you might get back to the boat if you were the person these
men were looking for. But now, Norries, I am very anxious to hear what
is your object, for it should be a great one to induce you to
undertake such a risk."
"It is a great one," answered Norries, with his gray eyes flashing
under his contracted brow: "no less than the salvation of my country,
Clive. In that last affair, the rash fools of the manufacturing
districts hurried on, against all persuasion, before matters were half
ripe, with the light spirit of the old Gauls: firm in the onset,
daunted by the first cheek, and tame and crouching in defeat. Had they
behaved like men, I would have remained with them to the last, to
perish or to suffer; but there was no shame in abandoning men who
abandoned their own cause at the very first frown of fortune. Now
there is a brighter prospect before me and before England. There are
sterner, calmer, more determined spirits, ready and willing to dig a
mine beneath the gaudy fabric of corruption and tyranny, which has
been built up by knavish statesmen in this land, and to spring the
mine when it is dug. The boasted constitution of England, which
protects and nurses a race of privileged tyrants, and refuses
justice--ay, and almost food--to the great mass of the people, is like
one of the feudal castles of the old barons of the land, built high
and strong, to protect them in their aggressions upon their
neighbours, and in their despotic rule over their serfs. But there
have been times in this and other lands when the serfs, driven to
madness by unendurable tyranny, have, with the mattock and the axe of
their daily toil, dug beneath the walls of the stronghold, and cast it
in ruins to the ground. So will we, Clive; so will we!"
Clive crossed his arms upon his chest, and gazed at him with a
thoughtful and a melancholy look; and when he had done he shook his
head sadly, as if his mind could take no part in the enthusiastic
expectations of his companion.
"Why do you shake your head, Clive?" demanded Norries, impatiently.
"Because I have lived long enough, my good friend," replied Clive, "to
see some hundreds of these schemes devised, perfected, executed, and
every one has brought ruin upon the authors, and worked no
amelioration in the institutions of the land."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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