Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

218 health. With a quick glance he noted his son’s entrance ; but he uttered no greeting. Gerard took a chair beside his father's pil low, sought under the bed-clothes for his thin and feeble hand, and pressed it anxiously and affectionately. “Father!” he cried in an unsteady voice, “tell me my doom ! The judge has been here ! Say, must I assume the headsman’s ■office ?•” “My son,' 7 replied the old man, mournful ly, “I have done my utmost, but in vain.— The judge will not hear of my varlet’s doing the duty. Neither gold nor entreaties soften ed him. My unhappy son, there is no alter native. Headsman you must become !” Although Gerard had foreseen his fate, ibis confirmation, destroying the last ray of hope, was a terrible shock. A cold sweat broke out upon his forehead, and he convul sively squeezed his father’s hand. But the emotion was of brief duration, and he relaps e i into his habitual calm dejection. “To-morrow l' 7 he exclaimed, after a short pause—“ Father, to-morrow destroys my last hope of a future happier than the past. To morrow I must dip my hands in the blood of a fellow-creature. To-morrow is the first day of a lile of agony. Thenceforward 1 am a hired murderer!” “My son!” said the old headsman anx iously but firmly, “ what must be must, and against destiny ’tis vain to strive. It were sin to deceive you. Be prepared for a joy less and weary existence. But there is a God above, who takes account of human suf fering, to repay it in His own good time.” Gerard heard but the bitter portion of his father's speech—the concluding words of comfort escaped his ear. He replied as if he had heard nothing. “I can conceive,” he said, “my fellow citizens’ hatred of me. May I not be called upon, any day and every day, to strike off the head of one of them, and he perhaps in nocent ? They think the headsman takes pleasure in bloodshed, that he gloats over his victim; and yet, if he shrinks at sight of the sufferer’s naked throat, if his trembling hands refuse to wield the sword, then, indeed, they slay him with stones, because he is no true headsman, but suffers himself to be touched by pity!” “Often, my son, has this inexplicable con tradiction struck me.” “ Methinks, father, ’tis not hard to inter pret. In every society of men a scapegoat is needed, on whom to pour out the supera bundant hate and malice of the human heart, to serve as a ready butt for the brutal, a safe laughing-stock for cowards. But, father ! is there no possible outlet, no means of es cape, unthought of or untried ? Is my fate inevitable— must I steep myself in blood?” *‘My son!” said the headsman, “there is no remedy. See yonder book, left me by the judge. It is open at the page that seals thy doom.” Gerard read; then dashed the book vio lently to the ground. “ Accursed be the unjust law,” he cried, “ that sentenced me, whilst yet in my moth ers womb, to a life of infamy and blood ? Thrice accursed, I say, be the law and its makers! What! whilst I lay in my cradle, smiling at life and at God’s glorious works, in happy ignorance of the future, men had already doomed me to live loathed and detes ted of all, like the venomous reptile against which every hand is lifted? Oh, shame, shame!” “ Despair carries you too far, Gerard,” re plied his father, with a sigh. “I appreciate your sufferings—too long have I endured the like ; but, remember that the headsman’s is a necessary office, and must be filled. God has allotted it to thee, and submission to His will is the Christian’s duty. In resignation and humility wilt thou find peace.” “Peace!—have you found it, my father? Is it resignation thathaslaid you thus prema turely upon the bed of sickness ? Were they from the springs of contentment and peace, those tears that during twenty long years you shed upon your son’s head ? You have had courage thus long to bear it; but I feel not such strength. Oh, that our souls might de part together, to find mercy and peace before the judgment-seat of the Most High ! But no; I am young and healthy, and grief does not kill—at least not as fast as I would have it. But, praise be to heaven ! the man who fears not death is ever master of his desti ny!” The headsman raised himself in his bed, and drawing his son towards him, embraced him tenderly, whilst a flood of bitter tears coursed over his cheeks, worn and wrinkled l)y sorrow rather than by years. “ O, Gerard!” he said, “my beloved son, can you cherish thoughts of suicide, and de light in-the sinful project? What! would you precede me to the tomb, leaving me to ObOinslEAtE'tr ®A£IEIf TH drag out in solitude my few remaining days of misery ? Is this kind, Gerard ?—is it gen erous, unselfish ? Think of Him who for our sakes bore a cross, compared to which thine is of feather’s weight. Bear it, in imi tation of Him, patiently and humbly. So shall we meet hereafter in that bright and blessed world where persecutors are not, and where the weary find rest!” These touching and pious words made a deep impression upon Gerard. He reproach ed himself for his egotism, and his whole feelings underwent a sudden and total change. All that day and evening he had nursed thoughts of self-destruction, which he looked upon as an enviable lot compared 1o the long career of blood prescribed to him by the cru el laws of his country. And now, out of love to his dying father, he must abandon the idea, and cling to an existence he viewed with deepest loathing! It cost a severe ef fort, but generosity and filial duty finally prevailed, and he made up his mind to the sacrifice. “Father!” he exclaimed, “forgive my senseless words—heedlessly and cruelly spo ken. I forget not my duty to you ; and, since such is your desire, I will ascend the scaffold and do my office firmly, horrible though it be. Let shame and scandal fall on those who force me to a work so repugnant to my nature. Fear not, my father, but that I will strike the blow with a veteran’s cool ness, and bathe my hands in my brother’s blood as calmly as ever butcher in that of un resisting lamb. 1 have said it; the sin is not mine, but theirs who compel me. Weep no more, father! Ihy son will become heads man ; aye, and with a headsman’s heart!” Those who, hearing this bold speech, should have discerned in it a strong and sud den resolution, to he afterwards borne out by the deeds of the speaker, would have deceiv ed themselves, even as Gerard deceived both himself and his father. It was but one of those fleeting flashes of determination, which persons wavering in an alternative of terrible evils sometimes exhibit. The resolution was dissipated with the sound of the words it dic tated. These, however, answered their chief purpose, by carrying joy and consolation to the old man’s heart. “I am weary, my son,” he said, “yet will I give thee brief word of advice, the fruit of long experience. To-morrow, when you ! mount the scaffold, look not at the mob; the ocean of eyes will confuse you, and make you falter. Fancy you are alone with the condemned man, and deal your blow steadily and carefully. If the head falls not at the first stroke, a thousand voices will cry haro on the bungling headsman ; a thousand arms will be uplifted against him, and I shall nev er again behold thee alive. I will pray to God that lie mercifully strengthen thee for the terrible task. Go, my son. and His blessing he upon thee.” Whilst the old man thus spoke, with a coolness resulting from long habit, all Ge rard’s apprehensions returned with redoubled violence, and he longed to throw himself on his knees before his father, to declare his ina bility to carry out his instructions, and to re call his promise of supporting the burden of existence. But affection for his sole survi ving parent, and fear of accelerating the fatal termination of his malady, stimulated him to self-restraint; and, after a last embrace, and a murmured “good-night,” he retired to his chamber. There, however, he neither sought his bed nor found repose. The rays of the morning sun shone upon the unhappy youth sitting in the same place, almost in the very same posture, he had taken on entering his room —as mute, as motionless, and nearly as pale, as statue of whitest marble. CHAPTER IV. THE EXECUTION. The execution of Hendrik the Mariner was fixed for six in the evening. Long before the appointed hour, crowds of people, eager to see the horrible spectacle, thronged through the St. George’s Gate, in the direction of the place of punishment. Nothing was more se ductive to the populace of that day than the sight of a grisly head rolling upon the scaf fold, and reddening the boards with its blood. The Antwerp burghers were not exempt from this horrible curiosity; and Headsman’s Acre, field was called in which capital pun ishments then took place, was crowded with spectators of all ages and classes, including women, many of them with their children in their arms, urchins of tender age, and old men who, already on the brink of the grave, tottered from their easy chair and chimney corner to behold a fellow-creature expiate, by a premature death, his sin against society. Noisy and merry was the mob collected round the tall black gallows and the grim rusty wheel. In the crowd, close to the scaffold, stood Lina, her heart beating quickly and anxious ly, her tears restrained from flowing only by the reflection that she was there to give Ge rard courage, and that weeping was the worst way to do it. Her brother Franz stood be side her, in holiday suit, his broad-leafed Spanish hat upon his head, and his brown cloak over his shoulder, according to the fashion of the time. Lina had represented to him, in lively colors, the frightful danger incurred by Gerard; and he, with his usual rough good-heartedness, swore to break the neck of the first man who threw a stone at the new headsman. It was late, and the shades of evening fell upon the earth, before the executioner’s var lets completed the necessary arrangements on the scaffold. At the moment these termina ted, a cart pierced the throng amidst general stir and hum of curiosity. The criminal, at tired in a black linen gown, sat with the priest in the hinder part of the vehicle. Ge rard was on the foremost bench, his broad bright sword in his hand, and one of his assis tants beside him. None could divine, from his countenance, what passed in his mind; his features were fixed and rigid ; his eyes, bent upon the ground, avoided the people’s gaze ; and but for the weapon he bore, none could have told which of the two, he or Hen drik, was the condemned man. Unconscious of his own movements, he ascended the scaf fold, so confused in spirit that he saw noth ing, not even Lina, although Franz several times made signs to catch his attention. And now 7 the varlets would have removed the prisoner from the cart to the scaffold; but he pretended that he had not finished his con fession, which he wished now, for the first time, to make full and complete, seeing all chance of pardon gone. Perhaps he nour ished a vague hope of escape in the darkness, for heavy clouds drifted across the sky, and night approached so rapidly, that already those upon the outskirts of the crowd could scarcely distinguish what passed upon the scaffold. So that the people, fearing the in creasing darkness would deprive them alto gether of the show they coveted, began to clamor loudly for the execution of the sen tence. The culprit, still resisting, and claim ing delay, was brought upon the scaffold by force, and made to kneel down. The heads man’s assistant bared the condemned wretch’s neck, and pointed to it with a significant look, as if to say, “ Master, strike!” At sight of the naked flesh into which he was to cut, Gerard started as if from a heavy sleep, and his limbs trenbled till the scaffold shook under him, and the broad-bladed sword fell from his hand. The varlet picked up the weapon and gave it back to his master, who clutched it convulsively, whilst the red rod of the superintending official gave the signal to strike. But Gerard neither saw the rod nor heard the voice of its hearer. Already a murmur arose amongst the crowd. “Quick, master, quick!” said the varlet, whose ear caught the ill-omened sound. Summoning all the strength and courage his recent sufferings had left him, Gerard rai sed the sw r ord, with the fixed determination to strike a bold and steady blow, when at that moment the victim turned his head, and at sight of the impending steel, uttered a la mentable yell. No more was wanting to up set Gerard’s resolution and presence of mind. They left him on the instant; his arms lost their strength, and he let.the sword fall on Hendrik’s shoulder, but so feebly that it did not even wound him. At the chill touch of the blade, the crimi nal’s whole frame quivered with agony ; hut the next instant, feeling himself unhurt, and perceiving the advantage to he derived from his executioner’s irresolution, he sprang to his feet, and stretching out his fettered arms to the people, implored help and pity, for that he was wilfully tortured. At this appeal the fury of the mob burst forth with uncontrollable vehemence. “ Strike him dead!” was the universal cry ; “ strike the torturer dead!” And stones flew about Gerard’s head, but in no great number, since, fortunately for him, they were not plentiful on the field.— The unhappy youth stood for a moment stun ned by the uproar; then, folding his arms, he stepped forward to the edge of the scaffold with the air of one for whom death has no terrors. “ Wolves !” he exclaimed; “ wolves in the garb of men !ye came for blood—take mine, and slake your fiendish thirst!” This rash defiance excited to madness the fury of the rabble. Women, children, and men of the better classes, fled in all haste from the field, leaving it occupied by the ve ry dregs and refuse of Antwerp, who pressed fiercely forward to the scaffold* making vio lent efforts to seize the headsman, in spite of the resistance of the police and officials.—- Ihe uproar and confusion was tremendous. Around Gerard a number of officers of justice assembled—less, however, for his protection than to prevent the escape of the culprit who made furious efforts to get rid of his mana cles, and continued to appeal to the people” and shout for assistance. At this moment of confusion, when scarcely anyone knew what his neighbor did, a man ascended the scaffold and approached the executioner. It xva Franz. “Gerard,” he said, “Lina conjures you in God’s name, and by your lovefor her, to speak to her for one moment. Sheisbelmv ■ follow me!” And lie leaped from the scaffold, on the side where the mob was thinnest. Gerard obeyed the charm of Lina's name. How gladly, he thought, would he bid his beloved one more farewell before encountering the death he deemed inevitable. In another sec ond he stood by her side. At the same in stant Franz, stripping off his c!oak, muffled Gerard in its folds, pressed his broad hat over his eyes, and placing Lina’s arm in that of the bewildered headsman, drew them gently from the spot. “Go quietly and fearlessly through the crowd,” he said, “and wait for me in the copse beyond the farthest gibbet.” And seeing that Lina obeyed his directions, and led away Gerard, who followed passive ly as a child, Franz ran round to the other side of the scaffold, and set up such a shout ing, that the mob, thinking he had seized the delinquent headsman, rushed furiously in that direction, leaving a free passage to the lov ers. Franz continued to shout with all his might, and to affect the most violent indigna tion. “ Strike him dead !” he cried ; “ strike him dead! Down with the base torturer! Throw his carcase to the ravens !” And he hurled stones at the scaffold, head ed a charge on the police, and behaved alto gether like a madman let loose. Favored by this attracting of the attention from them, anil under cover of the darkness, Lina succeeded in getting her lover away unrecognised, for Franz’s cloak and hat completely concealed the headsman's well-known costume. Bui before they reached the thicket, the mob got possession of the scaffold, released the prison er, and began ill-treating the officials, to com pel them to confess what had become of the executioner. On finding that this latter per sonage, the cause of the whole tumult, had disappeared, a man, one of the lowest of the people, who had seen Franz throw his cloak over Gerard’s shoulders, and who had watch ed the direction taken by Lina and her dis guised companion, guessed that the fugitive was no other than the headsman himself, and immediately started in pursuit. Before he could overtake them, Lina and Gerard had disappeared amongst the trees. His suspi cions confirmed by this mysterious conduct, the ruffian, blaspheming with exultation and fury, rushed upon the lovers; and, tearing oft Gerard’s cloak, beheld the headsman’s livery Thereupon, without word or question, he lift ed a heavy cudgel, and struck the poor fellow violently upon the head. Gerard fell sense less to the ground. The murderer would have repeated his blow, hut Lina, with the courage of a lioness defending her young, grappled him vigorously, and clasping her arms round his, impeded his further move ments. The sight of her lover, stunned and bleeding at her feet, seemed to give her su perhuman strength; and bethinking her that it was better to have one enemy to contend with than a hundred, she abstained from calling out, lest her cries should bring foes instead of friends. Fortunately the uproar of the mob drowned the imprecations of Ge rard s assailant, who vociferated horrible cur ses as he strove, with brutal violence, to shake off the heroic girl. At the very moment when, her last strengtli exhausted, she was about to succumb, Franz entered the copse, and, seeing Gerard motionless on the ground, and his sister struggling with a stranger, im mediately guessed what had occurred. A cry of rage burst from his lips, and before Lina remarked his presence, his powerful hands were upon the shoulders of her antag onist, who lay the next instant upon the grass at his feet. “ Lina!” cried Franz, seizing the fallen man, and dragging him in thedirection of the scaffold, “hide Gerard in the bushes; if He still lives, he is rescued from all he most dreads. Quick ! I will return.” With these words he hurried from the copse, dragging his prisoner after him so rap idly, that the prostrate man, his legs in Franz’s iron grasp, his head trailing in the dust, and striking violently against each stock and stone, could make no effectual re sistance. As soon as Franz was within ear shot of the mob, he shouted more loudly than ever.