It was the morning of the day of the swearing-in of the new Deemster
at Castle Rushen. The Bishop had asked permission to solemnise the
ceremony with a religious service--a custom long unobserved.
The service was held in a groined chamber of moderate size within
walls thirty feet thick, once the banqueting-hall of the Kings of
Man, now the jail chapel, with an atmosphere that seemed to be
compounded equally of the intoxicated laughter of the old revellers
and the moans of the condemned prisoners.
For the event of the day the chill place had been suitably decorated.
Flags hung on the tarred walls, red cushions from the neighbouring
church had been laid on the bare benches; a carpet had been stretched
down the aisle of the flagged floor; a white embroidered altar-cloth
covered the plain communion table, from which the light of four
candles in silver candlesticks flickered on the faces of the small
congregation--chiefly officials, with their wives and daughters.
Shortly before eleven, the hour fixed for the service, Stowell
entered, wearing for the first time the wig and gown of a judge, and
he was led to one of three arm-chairs at the front. A little later
there came through the thick walls the sound of soldiery clashing
arms outside the Castle, and at the next moment the Governor arrived
in General's uniform of red and gold, with Fenella behind him in a
large spring hat (her face glowing with animation), and they took the
two remaining chairs. Then the Bishop in his scarlet robes came in,
preceded by his crozier, and the service began.
It was short but solemn. First a psalm of David ("He shall judge thy
people with righteousness and thy poor with judgment"); then an
epistle to the Romans ("Owe no man anything"); and then an improvised
prayer by the Bishop, asking the Almighty to grant His strength and
wisdom to His servant who was shortly to take the solemn oath of his
great office, that he might deliver the poor and needy, deal
faithfully with all men, and show mercy to such as had erred and
sinned. Then came the hymn "Thou Judge of quick and dead," and
finally the Benediction.
Stowell was strongly affected. He knelt at the prayer, and when the
service was at an end and it was time to go, Fenella had to touch his
shoulder.
The sun was bright outside, and they blinked their eyes as they
crossed the courtyard to the Court-house.
The stately little chamber was full, save for the seats that had been
reserved for the officials. There was a flash of faces, a waft of
perfume, a flutter of handkerchiefs and a hum of whispering as the
Governor stepped up to the scarlet dais, with Stowell following him
and taking for the first time the seat of the Judge.
People who had been talking of the youth of the new Deemster were
heard to say that in his judge's wig he seemed older than they had
expected and so like the portrait on the wall that one could almost
fancy that his father was looking through the windows of his eyes.
The proceedings began with the Governor calling upon Stowell for his
Commission, and then reading it aloud--"Our trusty and well-beloved
Victor Stowell to be Deemster of this isle."
After that everybody stood while the new Judge took the oath of
fealty to the King. Then the Deemster's clerk, Joshua Scarff, in his
coloured spectacles, handed up a quarto copy of the Bible and a deep
hush fell on the assembly, for the time had come for the Deemster's
oath.
The Governor and Stowell rose again, but all others remained seated.
Each laid one hand on the open Book, and the Governor read the oath,
clause by clause in loud, strong tones that seemed to smite the walls
as with blows. And, clause by clause, Stowell repeated it after him
in a lower voice that was sometimes barely audible:
"_By this Book and the holy contents thereof...._"
"_By this Book and the holy contents thereof...._"
"_And by all the wonderful works which God hath miraculously wrought
in heaven and on the earth beneath in six days and seven nights, I,
Victor Christian Stowell...._"
"_I, Victor Christian Stowell, do swear that I will, without respect
or fear or friendship, love or gain, consanguinity or affinity, envy
or malice, execute the laws of this isle justly betwixt our Sovereign
Lord the King and his subjects within the isle, and betwixt party and
party, man and man, man and woman...._"
"_.... man and woman ...._"
"_.... as indifferently as the herring bone doth lie down the middle
of the fish._"
There was a deep silence until the oath was ended and then a general
drawing of breath.
The Governor and the new Deemster sat and the Clerk of the Rolls
handed up the Liber Juramentorum, the Book of Oaths, a large volume
in faded leather with leaves of discoloured parchment.
It was observed, and afterwards remarked upon, that when Stowell took
up the pen to sign he hesitated for a moment, and then wrote his name
rapidly and nervously, and that, in the silence, a diamond ring which
he wore on his right hand (it was a present from Fenella) clashed
with a discordant sound against the glass tray as he threw the pen
back.
The business being over, the Bishop gave out the hymn that is sung at
the close of nearly all Manx festivals, "O God, our help," and all
rose and sang.
Stowell rose with the rest, but he did not sing. He was no longer
conscious of the eyes that were on him. The emotion which he had
been struggling to repress had at length conquered his self-control.
While the Court-house throbbed with the singing he was thinking of
the Judges who had stood in the same place and taken that oath before
him. There had been a thousand years of them.
He turned to the eastern wall and his father's melancholy eyes seemed
to look at him. "Yes, you too," they seemed to say, "must now do the
right, whatever it may cost you. You are no longer yourself only.
The souls of all your predecessors have this day entered into your
soul. You must consider yourself no more. You must be just--or
perish."
The hymn came to an end and there was a shuffling of feet like the
pattering of water in the harbour at the top of the tide. The next
thing Stowell knew was that he was unrobed and going down the
Deemster's private staircase to the Court-yard of the Castle.
A large company was there waiting to congratulate him. Janet (he had
ordered that a front seat should be reserved for her) was holding a
little court of elderly ladies, to whom she was relating wonderful
stories of his childhood. She broke away from them to kiss him. And
then she kissed Fenella also and whispered,
"Don't forget to send him home in time, dear."
"I'll not forget," said Fenella.
And then she, on her part, with a face aflame, whispered something to
the Governor, who, shaking hands all round, was making ready to go.
"What? You want to return in the automobile? Very well, off you go!
The Attorney will take pity on your forsaken father."
Outside the gate there was a great crowd, behind a regiment of
red-coated soldiers, and when the Governor and the Attorney-General
drove off they broke into a cheer which drowned the clash of steel
and the first bars of the National Anthem.
But that was as nothing compared with the demonstration when Stowell
went off in his car, sitting at the wheel, with Fenella beside him.
"Long live the new Deemster--hip, hip--hip!"
The great shout, the mighty roar of voices, brought a surging to
Stowell's throat and a tightening to his breast. It followed his
car, going off in the sunshine, until it shot over the bridge that
crossed the harbour, and there Fenella turned back her glistening wet
eyes and bowed.
* * * * * * *
Others heard it. The prisoners in their dark cells, rising from
their plank beds and hunching their shoulders in the chill air,
listened to the joyous sounds from without, which broke the usual
silence of their gloomy walls, and said to themselves,
"What are they doing now, I wonder?"
There were seven prisoners in the Castle that day. One of them was
Bessie Collister.