CHAPTER XXVII.

His reverence in the late battle showed himself a strategist, and won

without bringing up his reserves; if he had failed with Mr. Lacy he had

another arrow behind in his quiver. He had been twice to the mayor and

claimed a coroner's jury to sit on a suicide. The mayor had consented

and the preliminary steps had been taken.

The morning after the jailer's dismissal the inquest was held. Mr. Eden,

Evans, Fry and others were examined, and the case came out as clear as

the day and black as the night.

When twelve honest Englishmen, men of plain sense, not men of system,

men taken from the public not from public offices, sat in a circle with

the corpse of a countryman at their knees, fiebat lux; 'twas as though

twelve suns had burst into a dust-hole.

“Manslaughter!” cried they, and they sent their spokesman to the mayor

and said yet more light must be let into this dusthole, and the mayor

said, “Ay and it shall, too. I will write to London and demand more

light.” And the men of the public went to their own homes and told their

wives and children and neighbors what cruelties and villainies they had

unearthed, and their hearers, being men and women of that people, which

is a god in intellect and in heart compared with the criticasters that

try to misguide it with their shallow guesses and cant and with the

clerks that execute it in other men's names, cried out, “See now! What

is the use our building courts of law or prisons unless they are to be

open unto us. Shut us out--keep walls and closed gate between us and our

servants--and what comes of our courts of law and our prisons? Why they

turn nests of villainy in less than no time.”

The twelve honest Englishmen had hardly left the jail an hour, crying

“manslaughter!” and crying “shame!” when all in a moment “TOMB!” fell

a single heavy stroke of the great prison bell. The heart of the prison

leaped, and then grew cold--a long chill pause, then “TOMB!” again. The

jurymen had told most of his fellow-sufferers how Josephs was driven

into his grave--and now--

“TOMB!” the remorseless iron tongue crashed out one by one the last sad,

stern monosyllables of this sorrowfulest of human tales.

They put him in his coffin (“TOMB!”) a boy of sixteen, who would be

alive now but that caitiffs, whom God confound on earth, made life an

_impossibility_ to him (“TOMB!”), and that Shallows and Woodcocks, whom

God confound on earth, and unconscientious non-inspecting inspectors,

flunkeys, humbugs, hirelings, whom God confound on earth (“TOMB!”), left

these scoundrels month after month and year after year unwatched, though

largely paid by the queen and the people to watch them (“TOMB!”). Look

on your work, hirelings, and listen to that bell, which would not be

tolling now if you had been men of brains and scruples instead of sordid

hirelings. The priest was on his knees, praying for help from heaven

to go through the last sad office with composure, for he feared his own

heart when he should come to say “ashes to ashes” and “dust to dust”

over this hapless boy, that ought to be in life still. And still the

great bell tolled, and many of the prisoners were invited kindly in a

whisper to come into the chapel; but Fry could not be spared and Hodges

fiercely refused. And now the bell stopped, and as it stopped, the voice

of the priest arose, “I am the resurrection and the life.”

A deep and sad gloom was upon all as the last sad offices were done for

this poor young creature cut short by foul play in the midst of them.

And for all he could do the priest's voice trembled often, and a heavy

sigh mingled more than once with the holy words.

What is that? “THIS OUR BROTHER!”--a thief our brother?--ay! the

priest made no mistake, those were the words; pause on them. Two great

characters contradicted each other to the face over dead Josephs. Unholy

State said, “Here is the carcass of a thief whom I and society honestly

believe to be of no more importance than a dog--so it has unfortunately

got killed between us, no matter how; take this carcass and bury

it,” said unholy State. Holy Church took the poor abused remains with

reverence, prayed over them as she prays over the just, and laid them

in the earth, calling them “this our brother.” Judge now which is all in

the wrong, unholy State or holy Church--for both cannot be right.

Now while the grave is being filled in, judge, women of England and

America, between these two--unholy State and holy Church. The earth

contains no better judges of this doubt than you. Judge and I will bow

to your verdict with a reverence I know male cliques too well to feel

for them in a case where the great capacious heart alone can enlighten

the clever, little, narrow, shallow brain.

Thus in the nineteenth century--in a kind-hearted nation--under the most

humane sovereign the world has ever witnessed on an earthly throne--holy

Church in vain denouncing the miserable sinners that slay the thief

their brother--Edward Josephs has been done to death in the queen's

name--in the name of England--and in the name of the law.

But each of these great insulted names has its sworn defenders, its

honored and paid defenders. It is not for us to suppose that men so high

in honor will lay aside themselves and turn curs.

Ere I close this long story, let us hope I shall be able to relate

with what zeal and honor statesmen disowned and punished wholesale

manslaughter done in the name of the State; and with what zeal and

horror judges disowned and punished wholesale manslaughter done in their

name; and so, in all good men's eyes, washed off the blood with which

a hireling had bespattered the state ermine and the snow-white robe of

law.

For the present, the account between Josephs and the law stands

thus:--Josephs has committed the smallest theft imaginable. He has

stolen food. For this the law, professing to punish him with certain

months' imprisonment, has inflicted capital punishment; has overtasked,

crucified, starved--overtasked, starved, crucified--robbed him of light,

of sleep, of hope, of life; has destroyed his body, and perhaps his

soul. Sum total--1st page of account--

Josephs a larcenist and a corpse. The law a liar and a felon.

It Is Never Too Late to Mend · 第 27 / 85 章