MR. EDEN had taken Mr. Lacy to the dark cells. Evans, who had no key of
them, was sent to fetch Fry to open them. “We will kill two birds with
one stone--disinter a patient for our leathern gallows, and a fresh
incident of the ---- Inquisition. Open this door, Mr. Fry.”
The door was opened. A feeble voice uttered a quavering cry of joy that
sounded like wailing, and a figure emerged so suddenly and distinctly
from the blackness that Mr. Lacy started. It was Thomas Robinson, who
crept out white and shaking, with a wild, haggard look. He ran to Mr.
Eden like a great girl. “Don't let me go back--don't let me go back,
sir!” And the cowed one could hardly help whimpering.
“Come, courage, my lad,” rang out Mr. Eden, “your troubles are nearly
over. Feel this man's hand, sir.”
“How he trembles! Why, he must be chicken-hearted.”
“No! only he is one of your men of action, not of passive fortitude.
He is imaginative, too, and suffers remorse for his crimes without the
soothing comfort of penitence. Twenty-four hours of that black hole
would deprive him or any such nature of the light of reason.”
“Is this a mere opinion or do you propose to offer me proof?”
“Six men driven by this means alone to the lunatic asylum, of whom two
died there soon after.”
“Hum! of what nature is your proof? I cannot receive assertion.”
“Entries made at the time by a man of unimpeachable honesty.”
“Indeed!”
“Who hates me and adores Mr. Hawes.”
“Very well, Mr. Eden,” replied the other keenly, “whatever you support
by such evidence as that I will accept as fact and act upon it.”
“Done!”
“Done!” and Mr. Lacy smiled good-humoredly, but, it must be owned,
incredulously. “Is that proof at hand?” he added.
“It is. But one thing at a time--the leathern gallows is the iniquity we
are unearthing at present. Ah! here are Mr. Hawes and his subordinates.”
“Subordinates?”
“You will see why I call them so.”
Mr. Williams. “I trust you will not accept the evidence of a refractory
prisoner against an honest, well-tried officer, whose conduct for two
years past we have watched and approved.”
Mr. Lacy replied with dignity: “Your good opinion of Mr. Hawes shall
weigh in his favor at every part of the evidence, but you must not
dictate to me the means by which I am to arrive at the truth.”
Mr. Williams bit his lip and was red and silent.
“But, your reverence,” cried Robinson, “don't let me be called a
refractory prisoner when you know I am not.”
“Then what were you in the black-hole for?”
“For obeying orders.”
“Nonsense! hum! Explain.”
“His reverence said to me, 'You are a good writer; write your own life
down. See how you like it when you look at it with reason's eye instead
of passion's, all spread out before you in its true colors. Tell the
real facts--no false coin, nor don't put any sentiments down you don't
feel to please me--I shall only despise you,' said his reverence.
Well, sir, I am not a fool, and so of course I could see how wise his
reverence was, and how much good might come to my poor sinful soul by
doing his bidding; and I said a little prayer he had taught me against
a self-deceiving heart--his reverence is always letting fly at
self-deception--and then I sat down and I said, 'Now I won't tell a
single lie or make myself a pin better or worse than I really am. Well,
gentlemen, I hadn't written two pages when Mr. Fry found me out and told
the governor, and the governor had me shoved into the black-hole where
you found me.”
“This is Mr. Fry, I think?”
“My name is Fry”
“Was this prisoner sent to the black-hole merely for writing his life by
the chaplain's orders?”
“You must ask the governor, sir. My business is to report offenses and
to execute orders; I don't give 'em.”
“Mr. Hawes, was he sent to the black-hole for doing what the chaplain
had set him to do by way of a moral lesson?”
“He was sent for scribbling a pack of lies without my leave.”
“What! when he had the permission of your superior officer.”
“Of my superior officer?”
“Your superior in the department of instruction, I mean. Can you doubt
that he is so with these rules before you? Let me read you one of them:
'Rule 18. All prisoners, including those sentenced to hard labor, are
to have such time allowed them for instruction as the chaplain may think
proper, whether such instruction withdraw them from their labor for a
time or not.' And again, by 'Rule 80. Each prisoner is to have every
means of moral and religious instruction the chaplain shall select for
each as suitable.' So that you have passed out of your own department
into a higher department, which was a breach of discipline, and you have
affronted the head of that department and strained your authority to
undermine his, and this in the face of Rule 18, which establishes this
principle: that should the severities of the prison claim a prisoner
by your mouth, and religious or moral instruction claim him by the
chaplain's, your department must give way to the higher department.”
“This is very new to me, sir; but if it is the law--”
“Why, you see it is the law, printed for your guidance. I undo your act,
Mr. Hawes; the prisoner Robinson will obey the chaplain in all things
that relate to religious or moral instruction, and he will write his
life as ordered, and he is not to be put to hard labor for twenty-four
hours. By this means he will recover his spirits and the time and
moral improvement you have made him lose. You hear, sir?” added he very
sharply.
“I hear,” said Hawes sulkily.
“Go on with your evidence, Mr. Eden.”
“Robinson, my man, you see that machine?”
“Ugh! yes, I see it.”
“For two months I have been trying to convince Mr. Hawes that engine is
illegal. I failed; but I have been more fortunate with this gentleman
who comes from the Home Office. He has not taken as many minutes to see
it is unlawful.”
“Stop a bit, Mr. Eden. It is clearly illegal, but the torture is not
proved.”
“Nor ever will be,” put in Mr. Hawes.
“So then, Robinson, no man on earth has the right to put you into that
machine.”
“Hurrah!”
“It is therefore as a favor that I ask you to go into it to show its
operation.”
“A favor, your reverence, to you? I am ready in a minute.” Robinson was
jammed, throttled, and nailed in the man-press. Mr. Lacy stood in front
of him and eyed him keenly and gravely. “They seem very fond of you,
these fellows.”
“Can you give your eyes to that sight and your ears to me?” asked Mr.
Eden.
“I can.”
“Then I introduce to you a new character--Mr. Fry. Mr. Fry is a real
character, unlike those of romance and melodrama, which are apt to be
either a streak of black paint or else a streak of white paint. Mr. Fry
is variegated. He is a moral magpie; he is, if possible, as devoid of
humanity as his chief; but to balance this defect, he possesses, all to
himself, a quality, a very high quality, called Honesty.”
“Well, that is a high quality and none too common.”
“He is one of those men to whom veracity is natural. He would hardly
know how to tell a falsehood. They fly about him in this place like
hailstones, but I never saw one come from him.”
“Stay! does he side with you or with Mr. Hawes in this unfortunate
difference?”
“With me!” cried Mr. Hawes eagerly. Mr. Eden bowed assent. “Hum!”
“This honest Nero is zealous according to his light; he has kept a
strict record of the acts and events of the jail for four years past;
i.e., rather more than two years of Captain O'Connor's jailership, and
somewhat less than two years of the present jailer. Such a journal,
rigorously kept out of pure love of truth by such a man is invaluable.
There no facts are likely to be suppressed or colored, since the record
was never intended for any eye but his own. I am sure Mr. Fry will
gratify you with a sight of this journal. Oblige me, Mr. Fry!”
“Certainly, sir! certainly!” replied Fry, swelling with importance and
gratified surprise.
“Bring it me at once, if you please.” Fry went with alacrity for his
journal.
“Mr. Lacy,” said Mr. Eden, with a slight touch of reproach, “you can
read not faces only but complexions. You read in my yellow face and
sunken eye--prejudice; what do you read here?” and he wheeled like
lightning and pointed to Mr. Hawes, whose face and very lips were
then seen to be the color of ashes. The poor wretch tried to recover
composure, and retort defiance; but the effort came too late. His face
had been seen, and once seen that look of terror, anguish and hatred was
never to be forgotten.
“What is the matter, Mr. Hawes?”
“W--W--When I think of my long services, and the satisfaction I have
given to my superiors--and now my turnkey's journal to be taken and
believed against mine.”
(Chorus of Justices.) “It is a shame!”
Mr. Eden (very sharply). “Against yours? what makes him think it will be
against his? The man is his admirer, and an honest man. What injustice
has he to dread from such a source?”
Mr. Lacy. “I really cannot understand your objection to a man's evidence
whose bias lies your way; and I must say, it speaks well for Mr. Eden
that he has proposed this man in evidence.”
At this juncture the magistrates, after a short consultation, informed
Mr. Lacy that they had business of more importance to transact, and
could give no more time to what appeared to them an idle and useless
inquiry.
“At all events, gentlemen,” replied Mr. Lacy, “I trust you will not
leave the jail. I am not here to judge Mr. Hawes, but to see whether Mr.
Eden's demand for a formal inquiry into his acts ought to be granted or
refused. Now unless the evidence takes some new turn I incline to think
I must favor the inquiry; that is to say, should the chaplain persist in
demanding it.”
“Which I shall.”
“Should a royal commission be appointed to sit here, I should naturally
wish to consult you as to the component members of the commission; and
it is my wish to pay you the compliment usual in such cases of selecting
one of the three commissioners from your body. But one question,
gentlemen, before you go. Have you complied with No. 1 of these your
rules? Have you visited every prisoner in his or her cell once a month?”
“Certainly not!”
“I am sorry to hear it. Of course, at each visit, you have closely
examined this the jailer's book, a record of his acts and the events of
the jail?”
“Portions of it are read to us; this is a form which I believe is never
omitted--is it, Mr. Hawes?”
“Never, gentlemen!”
“'Portions!' and 'a form!' what, then, are your acts of supervision? Do
you examine the turnkeys, and compare their opinions with the jailer's?”
“We would not be guilty of such ungentlemanly behavior!” replied Mr.
Williams, who had been longing for some time to give Mr. Lacy a slap.
“Do you examine the prisoners apart, so that there can be no
intimidation of them?”
“We always take Mr. Hawes into the cells with us.”
“Why do you do that, pray?”
“We conceive that nothing would be gained by encouraging the refuse of
mankind to make frivolous complaints against their best friend.” Here
the speaker and his mates wore a marked air of self-satisfaction.
“Well, sir! has the present examination in no degree shaken your
confidence in Mr. Hawes's discretion?”
“Not in the least.”
“Nor in your own mode of scrutinizing his acts?”
“Not in the least.”
“That is enough! Gentlemen, I need detain you no longer from the
business you have described as more important than this!”
Mr. Lacy shrugged his shoulders. Mr. Eden smiled to him, and said
quietly:
“As they were in the days of Shakespeare so they were in the days of
Fielding; as they were in the days of Fielding so they are in the days
of light; and as they are now so will they remain until they are swept
away from the face of the soil. (Keep your eye on Mr. Hawes, edging away
there so adroitly.) It is not their fault, it is their nature; their
constitution is rotten; in building them the State ignored Nature, as
Hawes ignores her in his self-invented discipline.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“That no _body_ of men ever gave for nothing anything worth anything,
nor ever will. Now knowledge of law is worth something; zeal,
independent judgment, honesty, humanity, diligence are worth something
(are you watching Mr. Hawes, sir?); yet the State, greedy goose, hopes
to get them out of a body of men for nothing!”
“Hum! Why has Mr. Hawes retired?”
“You know as well as I do.”
“Oh! do I?”
“Yes, sir! the man's terror when Fry's journal was proposed in evidence,
and his manner of edging away obliquely to the direction Fry took, were
not lost on a man of your intelligence.”
“If you think that, why did you not stop him till Fry came back with the
book?”
“I had my reasons; meantime we are not at a stand-still. Here is an
attested copy of the journal in question; and here is Mr. Hawes's
log-book. Fry's book intended for no mortal eye but his own; Hawes's
concocted for inspection.”
“I see a number of projecting marks pasted into Fry's journal!”
“Yes, sir; on some of these marks are written the names of remarkable
victims, recurring at intervals; on others are inscribed the heads
of villainy--'the black-hole,' 'starvation,' 'thirst,' 'privation
of exercise,' 'of bed,' 'of gas,' 'of chapel,' 'of human
converse,' 'inhuman threats,' and the infernal torture called the
'punishment-jacket.' Somewhat on the plan of 'Watt's Bibliotheca
Britannica.' So that you can at will trace any one of Mr. Hawes's
illegal punishments, and see it running like a river of blood through
many hapless names; or you can, if you like it better, track a
fellow-creature dripping blood from punishment to punishment, from one
dark page to another, till release, lunacy, or death closes the list of
his recorded sufferings.”
Aided by Mr. Eden, who whirled over the leaves of Mr. Hawes's log-book
for him, Mr. Lacy compared several pages of the two books. The following
is merely a selected specimen of the entries that met his eye:
MR. FRY. MR. HAWES.
Joram.Writing on his can--bread and Joram.Refractory--bread and
water. water.
Joram.Bread and water.
Joram.Bread and water. Joram.Refractory--crank; bread
and water.
Joram.Crank not performed--bread
and water.
Joram.Punishment-jacket.
Joram.Refractory--crank--bread and Joram. Refractory--bread and
water. water.
Joram.Attempted suicide; Joram. Feigned suicide; cause
insensible when found. Had religious despondency--put on
cut off pieces of his hair to sick-list.
send to his friends--sick-list.
Josephs. Crank not performed; says Josephs. Refractory; said
he could not turn the crank No. 9; he would not work on crank 9;
punishment-jacket. punishment-jacket.
Tomson. Communicating in chapel-- Tomson.Communicating--dark cells.
dark cell 12 hours.
Tomson. Bread and water.
Tomson. Crank not performed; Tomson. Refractory--jacket.
punishment-jacket.
Tomson. Dark cells.
Tomson. No chapel.
Tomson. Dark cells.
Tomson. Melancholy. Tomson. Afflicted with remorse
for past crimes--surgeon.
Tomson. Very strange.
Tomson. Removed to lunatic asylum. Tomson. Removed to asylum.
Tanner (nine years old). Caught Tanner. Caught up at window;
up at window; asked what he did answered insolently--jacket.
there; said he wanted to feel the
light--jacket, and bread and water
three days.
Tanner. For repining--chapel Tanner. Refractory language--
and gas stopped until content. forbidden chapel until
reformation.
“Can I see such a thing as a prisoner who has attempted suicide?”
inquired he, with lingering incredulity.
“Yes! there are three on this landing. Come first to Joram, of whom
Mr. Hawes writes that he made a sham attempt on his life in a fit of
religious despondency--Mr. Fry, that having been jacketed and put on
bread and water for several days, he became depressed in spirits and
made a real attempt on his life. Ah! here is Mr. Fry, he is coming
this way to tell you his first falsehood. Hawes has been all this while
persuading him to it.”
“Where is your journal, Mr. Fry?”
“Well, sir,” replied Fry, hanging his head, “I can't show it you. I lent
it to a friend, now I remember, and he has taken it out of the jail;
but,” added he with a sense of relief, “you can ask me any questions you
like and I'll answer them all one as my book.”
“Well, then, was Joram's attempt at suicide a real or a feigned one?”
“Well, I should say it was a real one. I found him insensible and he did
not come to for best part of a quarter of an hour.”
“Open his cell.”
“Joram, I am here from the Secretary of State to ask you some questions.
Answer them truly and without fear. Some months ago you made an attempt
on your life.”
The prisoner shuddered and hung his head.
“Don't be discouraged, Joram,” put in Mr. Eden kindly, “this gentleman
is not a harsh judge, he will make allowances.”
“Thank you, gentlemen.”
“What made you attempt your life?” persisted Mr. Lacy. “Was it from
religious despondency?”
“That it was not. What did I know about religion before his reverence
here came to the jail? No, sir, I was clammed to death.”
“Clammed?”
“Yes, sir, clammed and no mistake.”
“North-country word for starved,” explained Mr. Eden.
“No, sir, I was starved as well. It was very cold weather, and they gave
me nothing but a roll of bread no bigger than my fist once a day for the
best part of a week. So being starved with cold and clammed with hunger
I knew I couldn't live many hours more, and then the pain in my vitals
was so dreadful, sir, I was obliged to cut it short. Ay! ay! your
reverence, I know it was very wicked--but what was I to do? If I hadn't
attempted my life I shouldn't be alive now. A poor fellow doesn't know
what to do in such a place as this.”
“Well,” said Mr. Lacy, “I promise you your food shall never be tampered
with again.”
“Thank you, sir. Oh! I have nothing to complain of now, sir; they have
never clammed me since I attempted my life.”
Mr. Eden. “Suicide is at a premium here.”
“What was your first offense?” asked Mr. Lacy.
“Writing on my can.”
“What did you write on the can?”
“I wrote, 'I want to speak to the governor.'”
“Couldn't you ring and ask to see him?”
“Ring and ask? I had rung half a dozen times and asked to see him and
could not get to see him. My hand was blistered, and I wanted to ask
him to put me on a different sort of work till such time as it could get
leave to heal.”
“Now, sir,” said Mr. Eden, “observe the sequence of iniquity. A
refractory jailer defies the discipline of the prison. He breaks Rule
37 and other rules by which he is ordered to be always accessible to a
prisoner. The prisoner being in a strait, through which the jailer
alone can guide him, begs for an interview; unable to obtain this in his
despair he writes one innocent line on his can imploring the jailer to
see him. None of the beasts say, 'What has he written?' they say only,
'Here be scratches,' and they put him on bread and water for an illegal
period; and Mr. Hawes's new and illegal interpretation of 'bread and
water' is aimed at his life. I mean that instead of receiving three
times per diem a weight of bread equal to the weight of his ordinary
diets (which is clearly the intention of the bread and water statute),
he has once a day four ounces of bread. So because a refractory jailer
breaks the discipline, a prisoner with whom no breach of the discipline
_originated_ is feloniously put to death unless he cuts it short by
that which in every spot of the earth but ---- Jail is a deadly crime in
Heaven's eyes--self-murder.”
“What an eye your reverence ha' got for things! Well now it doesn't
sound quite fair, does it? but stealing is a dog's trick, and if a man
behaves like a dog he must look to be treated like one; and he will be,
too.”
“That is right, Joram; you look at it from that point of view, and we
will look at it from another.”
“Open Naylor's cell. Naylor, what drove you to attempt suicide?”
“Oh! you know, sir.”
“But this gentleman does not.”
“Well, gents, they had been at me a pretty while one way and another;
they put me in the jacket till I fainted away.”
“Stop a minute; is the jacket very painful?”
“There is nothing in the world like it, sir.”
“What is its effect? What sort of pain?”
“Why, all sorts! it crushes your very heart. Then it makes you ache from
your hair to your heel, till you would thank and bless any man to knock
you on the head. Then it takes you by the throat and pinches you and
rasps you all at one time. However, I don't think but what I could have
stood up against that, if I had had food enough; but how can a chap face
trouble and pain and hard labor on a crumb a day? However, what finally
screwed up my stocking altogether, gents, was their taking away my gas.
It was the dark winter nights, and there was me set with an empty belly
and the cell like a grave. So then I turned a little queer in the head
by all accounts, and I saw things that--hem!--didn't suit my complaint
at all, you know.”
“What things?”
“Well, gents, it is all over now, but it makes me shiver still, so I
don't care to be reminded; let us drop it if it is all the same to you.”
“But, Naylor, for the sake of other poor fellows and to oblige me.”
“Oh! your reverence, if I can oblige you that alters the case entirely.
Well, then, sir, if you must know, I saw 'Child of Hell' wrote in great
letters of fire all over that side of the cell. Always every evening
this was all my society, as the saying is; 'Child of Hell' wrote ten
times brighter than gas.
“Couldn't you shut your eyes and go to sleep?” said Mr. Lacy.
“How could I sleep? and I did shut my eyes, and then the letters
they came through my eyelids. So when this fell on the head of all my
troubles I turned wild, and I said to myself one afternoon, 'Now here is
my belly empty and nothing coming to it, and there is the sun a-setting,
and by-and-by my cell will be brimful of hell-fire--let me end my
troubles and get one night's rest if I never see another.' So I hung
myself up to the bar by my hammock-strap, and that is all I remember
except finding myself on my back, with Mr. Fry and a lot round me, some
coaxing and some cursing; and when I saw where I was I fell a-crying and
blubbering, to think that I had so nearly broke prison and there they
had got me still. I dare say Mr. Fry remembers how I took on.”
“Ay, my man, I remember we got no thanks for bringing you to.”
“I was a poor unconverted sinner then,” replied Mr. Naylor demurely,
“and didn't know my fault and the consequences; but I thank you now with
all my heart, Mr. Fry, sir.”
“I am to understand then that you accuse the jailer of driving you to
suicide by unlawful severities?”
“No, sir, I don't. I only tell you how it happened, and you should not
have asked me if you didn't care to know; and as for blaming folk, the
man I blame the most is John Naylor. His reverence there has taught me
to look at home. If I hadn't robbed honest folk I shouldn't have robbed
myself of character and liberty and health, and Mr. Hawes wouldn't have
robbed me of food and light and life wellnigh. Certainly there _is_ a
deal of ignorance and stupidity in this here jail. The governor has no
head-piece; can't understand that a prisoner is made out of the same
stuff as he is--skin and belly, heart, soul, bones an' all. I should
say he wasn't fit to be trusted with the lives of a litter of pigs, let
alone a couple of hundred men and women. But all is one for that; if he
was born without any gumption, as the saying is, I wasn't, and I didn't
ought to be in a fool's power; that is my fault entirely, not the
fool's; ain't it now? If I hadn't come to the mill the miller would
never have grinded me! I sticks to that!”
“Well said, Naylor. Come, sir, One higher than the State takes
precedence here. We must on no account shake a Christian frame of mind
or rekindle a sufferer's wrongs. Yes, Naylor, forgive and you shall
be forgiven. I am pleased with you, greatly pleased with you, my poor
fellow. There is my hand!” Naylor took his reverence's hand and his very
forehead reddened with pride and pleasure at so warm a word of praise
from the revered mouth. They went out of the cell. Being now in the
corridor, Mr. Eden addressed the Government official thus:
“My proofs draw to a close. I could multiply instances ad infinitum--but
what is the use? If these do not convince you you would not believe
though one rose from the dead. What do I say? Have not Naylor and Joram
and many others come back from the dead to tell you by what roads they
were driven there? One example remains to be shown. To a philosophical
mind it is no stronger than the rest; but there are many men who can
receive no very strong impression except through their senses. You may
be one of these; and it is my duty to give your judgment every aid.
Where is Mr. Fry? He has left us.”
“I am coming to attend you, sir,” cried Evans from above. “Mr. Fry is
gone to the governor.”
“Where are we going?” asked Mr. Lacy.
“To examine a prisoner whom the jailer tortured with the jacket, and
starved, and ended by robbing him of his gas and his bed contrary to
law. Evans, since you are here, relate all that happened to Edward
Josephs on the fourth of this month--and mind you don't exaggerate.”
“Well, sir, they had been at him for near a month, overtasking him and
then giving him the jacket, and starving him and overtasking him again
on his empty stomach till the poor lad was a living skeleton. On the
fourth the governor put him in the jacket, and there he was kept till he
swooned.”
“Ah!”
“Then they flung two buckets of water over him and that brought him to.
Then they sent him to his cell and there he was in his wet clothes. Then
him being there shaking with cold, the governor ordered his gas to be
taken away--his hands were shaking over it for a little warmth when they
robbed him of that bit o' comfort.”
“Hum!”
“Contrary to law!” put in Mr. Eden.
“Well, sir, he was a quiet lad not given to murmur, but at losing his
gas he began to cry out so loud you might hear him all over the prison.”
“What did he cry?”
“Sir, he cried MURDER!”
“Go on.”
“Then I came to him and found him shivering and dripping, and crying fit
to break his poor heart.”
“And did you do nothing for him?”
“I did what I could, sir. I took him and twisted his bedclothes so tight
round him the air could not get in, and before I left him his sobs went
down and he looked like warm and sleeping after all his troubles.
Well, sir, they can tell you better that did the job, but it seems the
governor sent another turnkey called Hodges to take away his bed from
under him.”
“Oh!”
“Well, sir! oh dear me! I hope, your reverence, I shall never have to
tell this story again, for it chokes me every time.” And the man was
unable to go on for a while. “Well, sir, the poor thing it seems didn't
cry out as he had about the gas, he took it quite quiet--that might have
let them know, but some folk can see nothing till it is too late--and
he gave Hodges his hand to show he bore him no malice. Eh dear! eh dear!
Would to Heaven I had never seen this wicked place!”
“Wicked place, indeed!” said Mr. Lacy solemnly. “You make me almost
dread to ask the result.”
“You shall see the result. Evans!”
Evans opened cell 15, and he and Mr. Eden stood sorrowful aside while
Mr. Lacy entered the cell. The first thing he saw was a rude coffin
standing upright by the window, the next a dead body lying stark upon a
mattress on the floor. The official uttered a cry like the scream of a
woman! “What is this? How dare you bring me to such a place as this?”
“This is that Edward Josephs whose sufferings you have heard and
pitied.”
“Poor wretch! Heaven forgive us! What, did he--did he--?”
“He took one step to meet inevitable death--he hanged himself that same
night by his handkerchief to this bar. Turn his poor body, Evans. See,
sir, here is Mr. Hawes's mark upon his back. These livid stripes are
from the infernal jacket and helped to lash him into his grave. You are
ill. Here! some wine from my flask! You will faint else!”
“Thank you! Yes, I was rather faint. It is passed. Mr. Eden, I find my
life has been spent among words--things of such terrible significance
are new to me. God forgive us! how came this to pass in England in the
nineteenth century? The ---- scoundrel!”
“Kick him out of the jail, but do not swear; it is a sin. By removing
him from this his great temptation we may save even his blood-stained
soul. But the souls of his victims? Oh, sir, when a good man is hurried
to his grave our lamentations are natural but unwise; but think what he
commits who hurries thieves and burglars and homicides unprepared
before their eternal Judge. In this poor boy lay the materials of a
saint--mild, docile, grateful, believing. I was winning him to all that
is good when I fell sick. The sufferings I saw and could not stop--they
made me sick. You did not know that when you let my discolored cheeks
prejudice you against my truth. Oh! I forgive you, dear sir! Yes, Heaven
is inscrutable; for had I not fallen ill--yes, I was leading you up
to Heaven, was I not? Oh, my lost sheep! my poor lost sheep!” And the
faithful shepherd, at the bottom of whose wit and learning lay a heart
simpler than beats in any dunce, forgot Hawes and everything else and
began to mourn by the dead body of his wandering sheep.
Then in that gloomy abode of blood and tears Heaven wrought a miracle.
One who for twenty years past had been an official became a man for full
five minutes. Light burst on him--Nature rushed back upon her truant son
and seized her long-forgotten empire. The frost and reserve of office
melted like snow in summer before the sun of religion and humanity.
How unreal and idle appeared now the twenty years gone in tape and
circumlocution! Away went his life of shadows--his career of watery
polysyllables meandering through the great desert into the Dead Sea.
He awoke from his desk and saw the corpse of an Englishman murdered by
routine, and the tears of a man of God dripping upon it.
Then his soul burst its desk and his heart broke its polysyllables and
its tapen bonds, and the man of office came quickly to the man of God
and seized his hand with both his which shook very much, and pressed it
again and again, and his eyes glistened and his voice faltered. “This
shall never be again. How these tears honor you! but they cut me to
the heart. There! there! I believe every word you have told me now. Be
comforted! you are not to blame! there were always villains in the world
and fools like us that could not understand or believe in an apostle
like you. We are all in fault, but not you! Be comforted! Law and order
shall be restored this very day and none of these poor creatures shall
suffer violence again or wrong of any sort--by God!”
So these two grasped hands and pledged faith and for a while at least
joined hearts. Mr. Eden thanked him with a grace and dignity all his
own. Then he said with a winning sweetness, “Go now, my dear sir, and do
your duty. Act for once upon an impulse. At this moment you see things
as you will see them when you come to die. A light from Heaven shines on
your path at this moment. Walk by it ere the world dims it. Go and leave
me to repent the many unchristian tempers I have shown you in one short
hour--my heat and bitterness and arrogance--in this solemn place.”
“His unchristian temper! poor soul! There, take me to the justices, Mr.
Evans, and you follow me as soon as you like. Yes, my worthy friend, I
will act upon an impulse for once--Ugh!”
Wheeling rapidly out of the cell, as unlike his past self as a pin-wheel
in a shop-drawer and ditto ignited, he met at the very door Mr. Hawes!
“You have been witnessing a sad sight, sir, and one that nobody, I
assure you, deplores more than I do,” said Mr. Hawes, in a gentle and
feeling tone.
Mr. Lacy answered Mr. Hawes by looking him all over from head to foot
and back, then looking sternly into his eyes he turned his back on him
sharp and left him standing there without a word.