waters are high, it takes a man at least three hours to walk from one
place to the other; but in spite of the distance, Mr. Skinner, his
clerk, and his prisoners, reached Kishlak first. They were followed by
Mr. Catspaw, who had gone round by Tissaret. After him came the master
of the house, and the judges whom he brought from Dustbury. The latter
party made their appearance in two carriages, of which one was honoured
by the weight of Kishlaki and Baron Shoskuty, while the second held the
assessor Zatonyi, and the recorder's substitute, Mr. Völgyeshy. The
recorder sent him principally because he knew that the court was in want
of the services of a notary, the functions of which office were far too
much beneath the recorder's dignity to allow of his executing them. He
therefore sent Völgyeshy, a young man who had just been appointed to
his office, who was eager to be employed, and whose knowledge of law
enabled him to assist the court with his advice. Völgyeshy's appearance
was by no means agreeable. He was small, sickly, and ill-made, and his
face was strongly marked with small-pox; but he was a man of great
learning, and as modest as he was clever. He was a general favourite at
Dustbury; old Kishlaki, who felt even more shocked than his wife when he
heard of Viola's capture, and of his being called to preside over the
court-martial, shared the joy of Baron Shoskuty and the assessor, when
they were informed of the recorder's intention to send his substitute to
act as notary. Baron Shoskuty was happy, because he knew that Völgyeshy
was a good hand at law; Kishlaki because he was a good hand at cards;
and the assessor, because the young man would listen to any stories, no
matter of what length and dullness. When the party arrived, they found
Messrs. Skinner and Catspaw--"_arcades ambo_; _id est_, blackguards
both,"--awaiting them. Mr. Catspaw rubbed his hands for joy when he saw
that none of the members of the court were likely to cross his plans by
an excess of philanthropy.
The lady of the house, too, hastened to the door to receive her guests,
and to offer them breakfast, which Mr. Catspaw volunteered to decline
for himself and partners, saying that it was eleven o'clock, and that
they must make haste to commence business.
"We cannot possibly get through the case to-day," observed Mr. Kishlaki.
"And why not, _domine spectabilis_? Why not?" asked the assessor.
"Please to consider that the court-martial must sit till the execution
is over; and to-morrow I must be at home, for there's the ploughing and
the potato harvest."
"Of course!" cried Shoskuty. "We are commissioners of courts-martial,
and a court-martial we are bound to make of it. The culprit is in
attendance, we are five commissioners; my young friend Völgyeshy has
come to assist us. It will take him just ten minutes to write the
verdict. God forbid," continued he, with a low bow to the lady of the
house, "God forbid that we should trouble your ladyship longer than we
can help!"
"No trouble, indeed; no trouble whatever!" cried Lady Kishlaki, with a
burst of genuine good-natured hospitality; "but I trust you do not mean
to hang the poor fellow?"
"Of course we do!" laughed the assessor. "I've sat in fifteen
courts-martial in the course of my life, and we never rose without
hanging the culprit. Courts-martial are for that sort of thing, you
know."
Lady Kishlaki had been solicited by Viola's wife to interfere in her
husband's behalf. The good old lady did all she could for the poor
woman. She assigned a room to her and the children, and, moved by Susi's
entreaties, she promised to save Viola's life, if a woman's tongue could
save it. But the determined tone in which the assessor delivered his
last sentence, showed her how little hope there was. She replied,
nevertheless, that Viola was perhaps less guilty than people fancied.
"I most humbly beg your ladyship's pardon," replied Baron Shoskuty, with
his proverbial politeness; "whether his guilt be greater or lesser, it's
all the same to us. The only question to ask is, 'Is the prisoner a
robber or not?' We do not care whether he killed a hundred people, or
whether he never took human life, whether he stole a million or a
fourpenny piece; all we ask is; is he a robber? and how was he taken? If
taken in arms, and in the fact of actual resistance, we hang him, so
please your ladyship."
"But it does not please my ladyship. You cannot possibly hang the poor
fellow for a few pence!"
"Nothing more simple," said the assessor, with great unction, "if the
case come within the jurisdiction of a court-martial. I have seen cases
in which the man whom we hanged would have been let off with a
fortnight's confinement by the ordinary courts; but as he fell into our
hands, we tied him up."
"I am a weak and ignorant woman," retorted Lady Kishlaki, with
increasing vehemence; "but if I'd been there, I'll warrant you, you
would not have done it!"
"Of course not! Nothing more natural!" replied Baron Shoskuty, who never
let an opportunity go by of paying a compliment to a lady; "your
ladyship is the milk, nay, the cream of human kindness! We are rude and
uncharitable men. The county has sent us to make an example, and we are
bound to make one."
"I beg your pardon," said Mr. Catspaw, who had given unmistakeable signs
of impatience; "time presses,--hadn't we better begin?"
"If you like," said Kishlaki, greatly confused, "we have to examine the
witnesses and----"
"We'll soon get the better of the witnesses," said Mr. Skinner. "There
is no difficulty in the case. We'd get twice through it before dinner
time."
"Viola is as guilty as anybody ever was!" cried Mr. Catspaw, as he
walked to the door.
"If he is, it will be shown by the evidence," said a loud sonorous
voice; "one ought never to pre-judge a case."
Everybody looked at Völgyeshy, who had spoken the last sentence. The
attorney walked up to Mr. Skinner and whispered: "I don't like the
fellow!" But Lady Kishlaki, who had hitherto paid no attention to the
ill-favoured young man, looked kindly at him.
"You are right," said she; "it's hard that a man should be judged before
his case has been inquired into. I know you will pity him."
"I am not an assessor, and have no vote," replied Mr. Völgyeshy, as he
left the room with the rest of the party. Mr. Kishlaki remained alone
with his wife.
"Consider, Valentine," said she, taking him by the hand--"consider that
a sentence of death cannot be pronounced unless the judges are
unanimous. Every one of you is highly responsible for the death of this
man."
"I know, my love; and if it depends on me--that is to say, if it is
possible--I am not bloodthirsty, you know, but----"
"I know you must do your duty; but pray consider that the life of a man,
if once taken, cannot be restored!"
"I will do all I can!" sighed the old man, cursing the day on which he
accepted his office; and leaving the room, he followed his colleagues to
the steward's office, where everything was prepared for the
accommodation of the court. Servants, and peasants armed with
pitchforks, were posted at the gate to keep the crowd at a distance.
Under the shed stood Viola, tied to a post and surrounded by haiduks and
Pandurs. In the hall were Tzifra, and Jantshy, the glazier, who had been
summoned as witnesses for the prosecution; and at a distance stood the
Liptaka and the smith of Tissaret, who volunteered to give evidence for
the defence.
"God have mercy upon his soul!" said the Liptaka. "I have little hope."
"So have I," said the smith; "and the thing which grieves me most is
that the two rascals there are going to escape," he added, pointing at
Tzifra and the Jew.
"I'd like to know who'll hang him!" said an old woman to her neighbour.
"I trust they'll have a clever hangman! They say people suffer
dreadfully if the hangman does not know his trade."
"Indeed, I heard them say that there's a gipsy that'll hang him. Mayhap
it's the sheriff's gipsy. Look there!--there he is. Look how he casts
his eyes around! Dear me! I'm afraid of him!"
"Don't talk such nonsense, Verush," said an old man; "Peti is Viola's
friend. It's he that brought the children from Tissaret. Did you not see
him talking to Viola's wife? Susi would not talk to him in that way, if
he were the man that is to hang her husband. Not even yourself would
have done that when your husband was alive. But I say, Verush, you'd not
occasion for a hangman, eh? You are the woman can worry a man to death
and be never the worse for it, eh?"
"How dare you say so!" screamed the widow. "Didn't I have a doctor in
his last illness?"
"Never mind!" said another woman. "Tell me who is going to hang him."
"I don't know," said the man.
"Perhaps they won't hang him. They'll give him a pardon."
"A pardon, indeed!" said the man. "Don't you see it's a court-martial.
You may whistle for a pardon, if you please."
"What _is_ a court-martial?"
"Why! don't you know? A court-martial is--why it's that the gentlemen
sit down together and consult, and hang some one. That's as it ought to
be."
"But suppose no one hangs him?"
"How can you ask such stupid questions? To hang a man you must have him
first; but who ever heard of a man being sentenced to hanging and let
off for the want of a hangman?"
"Just so; but suppose it _were_ to happen after all? What then?"
"Hang me if I know! perhaps the gentlemen themselves will hang him, or
they'll hang themselves with disappointment and vexation."[25]
[Footnote 25: See Note VIII.]
The proceedings of the court commenced meanwhile by the swearing in of
the judges, the reading of the articles of court-martial, and by Mr.
Skinner's laying on the table a written form of indictment, or, in
Hungarian judicial language, the "_species facti_." Mr. Völgyeshy's
conduct, while these preliminary forms were being got through, was such
as to fill the judges with astonishment and disgust. Not only did he
read the articles with a loud, clear voice, slowly enunciating and
pronouncing every word, instead of giving merely the heads of the
various paragraphs; but he also interrupted Mr. Skinner, who wished to
relieve the dulness of the lecture by a friendly chat with his neighbour
on the bench, by reminding him that the articles were read for the
purpose of being listened to. But the disgust of the court was
infinitely increased when, after the reading of the "_species facti_,"
and when they were just in the act of sending for the prisoner,
Völgyeshy stopped the proceedings by protesting that the "_species
facti_" was by no means such as to warrant the jurisdiction of a
court-martial in the present case.
"Not warrant the jurisdiction of a court-martial!" said Mr. Skinner;
"and how dare you, Mr. Völgyeshy, dare to say so to _me_--the oldest
judge of the county? On my word and honour, sir, you come it strong,
sir!"
"You are mistaken if you misconstrue my words into an intention of
offering you an insult."
"Intention? Insult? Why, sir, it is an insult! it's a downright,
root-and-branch, roaring insult, that's what it is!" shouted Mr.
Skinner; and, turning to the court, he continued:--
"I intreat this praiseworthy court to consider chapter vi. paragraph 8.,
where it is provided that '_A recital of the facts is to be submitted to
the court, stating the crime of which the prisoner stands accused, his
Christian and surname, and his age, the latter to be written with words
and letters instead of with the signs of numbers, &c. &c._'
"Now look at my report! Does it not state the facts, the crimes, the
names of the prisoner? does it not state his age, and, you will
observe, his age according to the instructions? Does this gentleman mean
to insinuate that I am not able to write a '_species facti_?' that I am
too stupid to take a man's age down according to instructions? This is
the worst thing I ever heard of! It's downright pettifogging, that it
is; and I won't be treated in this way, that I won't, no, not by any
man, and least of all by you, sir!"
The president and the assessors did their best to calm the fury of the
worthy magistrate; but if that fury was intended to prevent Völgyeshy
from urging his protest, it proved a signal failure, for the young man
persisted in declaring that he was fully convinced of Mr. Skinner's
ability to make out a correct statement of the facts, but that this very
correct and authentic statement of the facts did not show that the
robber had been overtaken and captured in the course of an
_uninterrupted pursuit_; "for this," added Mr. Völgyeshy, "is one of the
first conditions of a case for a court-martial."
"Not an uninterrupted pursuit!" roared Mr. Skinner; "why, a price has
been offered for his head; for months he has been hunted through the
county, and here's this lad wants to deny the uninterrupted pursuit!"
"Just so, _domine spectabilis_!" said the assessor, smiling; "it's the
worst plea I ever heard of,--_denique_, our friend is young. But let us
see the culprit."
"And I tell you again," said Völgyeshy, "that this report does not prove
an uninterrupted pursuit. Viola's last crime was his theft in the house
of the notary of Tissaret, and the pursuit was neither instantaneous nor
uninterrupted."
"If it's not a case for a court-martial," said Kishlaki, eager to escape
from the discharge of his painful duties, "we had better send it to the
sessions. For inasmuch----"
"For God's sake, do not say so! What a shame if Viola were to go to the
sessions! I am sure they'd rob us of the right of court-martial; and it
would serve us right, if we were to allow such a case to escape us."
"It seems Mr. Völgyeshy is not aware that courts-martial are held to try
and execute thieves and robbers," said Mr. Catspaw; "and that in the
case of any such person being pursued, and making an armed resistance,
there can be no question as to the jurisdiction of the court."
"I am fully aware of it, sir; but in what manner does this report show
that Viola is a robber?"
Here the assessor Zatonyi held up his hands.
"How is it shown?" said he; "does not the report set forth that Viola is
a robber? Don't you see _r-o-b-b-e-r_? If that does not mean robber,
I'll try myself by court-martial, and hang myself too."
"I beg your pardon," cried Baron Shoskuty, "I will explain the matter to
Mr. Völgyeshy. He is young, and wants experience; for such things are
not to be learnt from books. You see, sir, the articles of
courts-martial give us long explanations about the cases and individuals
to which the term of robber applies. These explanations are very good in
their way; excellent, sir! but, sir, they are not practical. _He_ is a
robber in Hungary whom public opinion designates as such. _Vox populi,
vox dei!_ and if such a person resists an arrest, he is _de jure_ tried
by court-martial, and hanged."
"Merely for resisting the arrest?"
"Yes," said Baron Shoskuty, majestically, "merely for that reason.
Resistance to the law is criminal, except in the case of noblemen."
"But surely we are not here to discuss law matters," said the assessor.
"Besides, Mr. Völgyeshy has no vote. If any of the other gentlemen stick
to the question, we'll divide, and there's an end of it."
"All this is very well," said Kishlaki, "but I'd like----"
"I say _luce meridiana clarius_! brighter than the light of day. The
case is within our jurisdiction. But no matter--let us divide."
The result of the division was that the witnesses were called in. The
examination showed the most astonishing correctness of Tzifra's former
evidence; every point of which was confirmed by the statements of
Jantshi, the Jewish glazier. When the witnesses were sent out of court,
Zatonyi offered his snuff-box to the court, saying:--
"_Duo testes omni exceptione majores._ Two honest witnesses----; why,
gentlemen, there can be no doubt----"
"Indeed!" sighed Kishlaki, "and they swore to their depositions. When
that Jew cursed himself as he did, I could not help shuddering. They
cannot possibly tell us an untruth!"
The justice spat on the floor with joy, protesting that he had never met
with better witnesses.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said Völgyeshy; "I, for my part, cannot
believe a word of the evidence. These witnesses tell us much the same
story, but then it is too much the same story; in short, my opinion is,
that it is a got-up story."
"This is too bad! indeed it is!" said Zatonyi, "to doubt the truth of
the evidence because the witnesses agree in their statement of the
facts. I never heard of such a thing!"
"Nor I!" cried Shoskuty. "To think that the depositions of the two
witnesses should be exactly alike, even in the smallest particular, and
to hear this gentleman speak of got-up stories and the like,--really it
_is_ too bad. _Denique_, he is an advocate."
"And proud of his profession!" interposed Völgyeshy. "But still, it is
my duty to inform the court that the extraordinary harmony in the
depositions of the two witnesses has convinced me of----"
"If you think so," said Kishlaki, "I think we had better----"
"He does not think so," said Mr. Catspaw, with a forced smile. "It's our
nature, sir; we cannot help it. We are fond of desperate cases, we dote
on them. The more desperate a case is, the greater the pleasure it gives
an advocate to stop or delay the proceedings."
"Mr. Catspaw is mistaken," said Völgyeshy; "the question is far too
serious to admit of any joking. But I appeal to you; tell me, is not
Tzifra notorious for being a thief and a robber?"
"Certainly not!" cried Mr. Skinner. "Janosh St. Vilmoshy--for the court
ought not to deal in slang and in nicknames--Janosh St. Vilmoshy, I say,
is an honest man. Ever since he was dismissed from gaol, he has led a
better life. He has cut Viola and his gang; and, in short, done his best
to blow upon the prisoner."
"Very well!" said Völgyeshy; "for the sake of argument we will grant
that this fellow, Tzifra, or Janosh St. Vilmoshy, or whatever his name
may be, is an honest man, after having been a robber all his life, and
after having passed the greater part of it in the county gaol. Now what
does he depose? Firstly, that Viola informed him of his intention to
commit the robbery. Now this is incredible, if we are to believe that
the witness spurned his former associates, and turned to an honest life.
But let us go on. Why, if this Janosh St. Vilmoshy knew of the intended
robbery, why did he not step in and prevent it?"
"Yes! yes! this time you are wrong, Skinner," said Kishlaki; "he cannot
possibly be an honest man."
Mr. Skinner looked confounded. Völgyeshy went on:--
"In the second instance, the witness declares that on the night of the
robbery he walked up to the village of Tissaret, when he was startled by
the report of a gun and by Viola's appearance, who ran past him carrying
the said gun in his hand. Now why did the witness go to Tissaret? Why
was he not at Dustbury, to vote at the election? How does it happen that
no one saw him at Tissaret? and why did he come all the way from
Dustbury, and at night too, unless he had some business of some kind
with somebody in the village?"
"Indeed this looks very suspicious, very suspicious,--on my soul it
does!" said Kishlaki; and the assessor, taking a pinch of snuff,
declared that their best plan would be to arrest Tzifra too, and to put
him in irons.
"Very well. Now all I ask is, where are your credible witnesses? You
ought to have two, you know," said Völgyeshy, with a great feeling of
superiority.
"Ah!" said the assessor. "A most judicious remark, on my soul! We cannot
at present proceed against Tzifra, because we want his evidence."
"But we can never ground a capital sentence on the evidence of such a
person!"
"You have no vote, sir!" replied Zatonyi; "and we, who have a vote, do
not ask your advice. Had we not better send for the prisoner?" added
he, turning to Kishlaki.
Völgyeshy sighed, and the court had just resolved to send for the
prisoner, when it was said that two witnesses wished to be examined,
and, the president having given his permission, the old Liptaka entered
the apartment. The old woman made no mention of the fact of her having
seen Viola in Tissaret on the night of the robbery. She protested that
the prisoner was under such great obligations to the notary, that he
could not possibly have been guilty of so atrocious a crime; and
further, that Viola, whose wife was her friend and relative, had many
weeks ago informed her of a plot to steal the notary's papers, bidding
her at the same time put the notary on his guard.
"And who did Viola say were they that intended to steal the papers?"
said Mr. Skinner, with a sneer.
"He did not mention any names, but he spoke of some great people."
"Stuff and nonsense!" cried Mr. Catspaw.
"I swear it; it's the truth!" said the old woman. "I've told it on my
oath, and I would not tell a lie,--no, not for all the treasures on
earth!"
"Did you give Viola's message to the notary?"
The woman was silent.
"Speak out, my good woman!" said Kishlaki; "you have no cause to fear."
"I know it, sir, and I cannot tell a lie, though I would. I will confess
that I did not say any thing to the notary, because I was afraid old
Tengelyi would send Susi away, if he were to know that Viola had entered
his house."
Messrs. Skinner and Catspaw looked at each other and smiled.
"Is this all you have to say?" asked Mr. Catspaw.
"Yes, sir."
"Very well; you may go."
She was followed by the smith, who deposed that after the report of the
gun he hastened to the notary's house, and pursued the murderer, whom he
identified as Tzifra. He swore that the person he had pursued was
Tzifra, not Viola.
The second witness having been dismissed, and his depositions taken down
in writing, the two witnesses were called back for the purpose of
signing the depositions. This done, the court sent for Viola. Mr.
Skinner meanwhile did his best to discredit the statements of the last
two witnesses, whose evidence, he protested, was not worth the paper it
was written on.
"That old hag," said he, "is Viola's kinswoman. Her evidence is quite
inadmissible; and as for the smith, he is always drunk, especially at
night, and nothing is more likely than his mistaking Viola for Tzifra."
"Very true," said Kishlaki.
"Nevertheless the evidence is deserving of some consideration,"
interposed Völgyeshy, "especially respecting the credit to be placed in
Tzifra's, or, if Mr. Skinner likes it better, in Mr. St. Vilmoshy's
statements. The very man who commits the crime has often been found to
depose against another."
"There is a deal of truth in that," said Kishlaki.
"I say!" cried Zatonyi, "that's a bright idea! We'll hang them both."
"Nonsense, _amice_!" said Shoskuty; "the other man is not before the
court-martial."
"If you arraign him, you may do so," said the assessor. "I know of a
precedent. I know of a thief who was just on the point of being turned
off, when he saw an accomplice among the crowd. He points him out; the
judge sends his men to arrest him. The fellow runs away, they overtake
him, and, by G--d! the rascal shows fight. Was it not glorious! They
take him back and hang him, on the spur of the moment, by the side of
the other fellow; and the judge put into his report that he had hanged
two thieves instead of one."
"Devil of a mess he got himself into," said Shoskuty. "Queer notion
that!"
"Mess? oh yes, he got into a mess; for now-a-days there's not a knave so
bad but he finds somebody who takes his cause up: and, in short, they
tell me the judge would have lost his place if he had not resigned, but
that was all."
"It was a murder!" cried Völgyeshy--"neither more nor less than a
murder!"
"My friend," said the assessor, with a pitying glance at Völgyeshy,
"_denique_, you don't know the world. However, I do not mean to urge my
view of the case: all I can say is, it's a pity if we do not hang the
two. But here's the prisoner!"
The door opened, and Viola entered, chained, and surrounded by armed
men.
CHAP. VI.
The appearance of the prisoner produced a profound sensation in the
court. Kishlaki felt deep pity for his misfortunes, though he could not
but admit that his fate was in part merited. Völgyeshy, who had heard
enough to convince him that there was no hope of the court pronouncing
in favor of Viola, shuddered to think that the man whom he saw was
doomed to die before sunset. Mr. Catspaw showed great uneasiness when he
heard the rattling of the chains; and Shoskuty, who had never seen the
robber, was quite as much excited by his curiosity as Mr. Skinner by the
feelings of ill-dissembled triumph with which he watched the prisoner's
features and carriage. Zatonyi alone preserved his habitual composure.
"At last you've put your head in the snare, you precious villain!" cried
Mr. Skinner. "Well, what do you say? Whose turn is it to be hanged?
Yours or mine, eh?"
The president of the court looked amazed; but Mr. Skinner laughed and
said:
"Perhaps you are not aware of my former acquaintance with Viola? There's
a bet between us two, who is to hang first; for that fellow has sworn to
hang me, if ever I fall into his hands. Is it not so, Viola?"
"No!" said the prisoner, "it's not so. If I swore I would be revenged,
it is well known that I had good cause for it; I have to thank this
gentleman for my wretched life and shameful death. But I never vowed to
hang you!"
"Never mind!" shouted the justice. "You are humble enough now that you
are in the trap; but I am sure you would have kept your word, if you had
been able to put your hands upon me. I, too, have sworn an oath, to hang
you where I find you--now tell me who has the worst of it?"
"I know that all is over with me," replied Viola, fixing his dark eyes
upon the justice; "there is no one to take my part--I know I must die;
but it is cruel to insult a dying man."
Völgyeshy, who was scarcely able to repress his feelings, interfered,
and protested in Latin that there was a vendetta between the accused and
one of the judges, and that another judge must be found. But his protest
had no other effect than an admonition, which the president gave Mr.
Skinner in very bad Latin, to eschew such light and irrelevant
conversation; and the court commenced forthwith to examine the prisoner.
Viola replied calmly and simply to the questions which were put to him;
and at last, as though wearied by the length of the examination, he
said:
"What is the use of all this questioning? It is a pity the gentlemen
should lose their time with me. Mr. Skinner has told me that I am to be
hanged; why, then, should I waste my words in an attempt to save my
life? I'll confess any thing you like, I don't care what it is; for,
believe me, if it had not been for my family, I would never have waited
till this day. I would have hanged myself in the forest, to make an end
of it, I assure you."
"But how can you possibly confess, when you are ignorant of what you are
accused of?" said Völgyeshy. "You stand before righteous judges. Speak
out, man, honestly and freely, as you would speak to God; for, believe
me, the judges are by no means agreed upon your sentence."
"Thanks to you for your good will," said the culprit; "but I know there
is no help. I am a robber; I have been taken in arms; they will hang me.
They may do it; but let them make haste; and spare me your questions!"
Mr. Catspaw, who showed some uneasiness, interposed, and said:
"If he refuses to confess, we cannot force him: it is expressly set
forth in the articles, that no violence is to be used to obtain a
confession. Our best plan is to read the questions to him, and if he
refuses to answer to them, why it's his own business, not ours."
"No!" said Völgyeshy; "this man ought to know that his fate does not
depend on the decision of the worshipful Mr. Paul Skinner; that the
court are prepared to listen to his defence, and that the verdict will
be dictated neither by hate nor revenge, but by pure and impartial
justice. If the prisoner knows all this, which it appears he does not,
he may possibly be induced to reply to the charges."
He turned to Viola, and continued:
"Speak out, my man. Your life is in the hands of these gentlemen, who
have to answer for it to God, your judge and theirs. Pray consider that
unless you speak, there is no hope for you. Think of your family; and,
tell us plainly, is there any thing you have to say for yourself?"
Kishlaki was deeply moved; Mr. Catspaw cast an angry look at the
speaker; and Zatonyi yawned.
"I will not speak in my own defence!" said the prisoner.
"Pray consider," urged the young lawyer; "the court will listen to any
thing you may say. These gentlemen have a painful duty to fulfil; but
they are far from wishing to take your life. If you can give us any
excuses, do so, by all means."
"It is provided, in Chapter 6. of the Articles, that the prisoner shall
not be wheedled into a confession," said Zatonyi, with an expression of
profound wisdom.
"Gentlemen," said Viola, at length, "may God bless you for your
kindness, and for your wishing to help me! but, you see, it's all in
vain. There are, indeed, many things I might say in defence; and when I
go to my God, who knows all and every thing, I am sure He'll judge me
leniently; but there is no salvation for me in this world. You see, your
worships, there is no use of my telling you that, once upon a time, I
was an honest man, as every man in the village of Tissaret can prove.
What is the use of my saying that I became a robber not from my own free
will, but because I was forced to it; that I never harmed any poor man;
that I never took more from the gentry, in the way of robbing, than what
was necessary to keep life in my body; and that I never killed any one,
unless it was in self-defence? Am I the less punishable for saying all
this? No. Whatever my comrades may have done is scored down to _my_
account. I am a robber, and a dead man."
"All this may serve to modify the sentence. But what do you mean by
saying that you were _forced_ to be a robber?"
"Ask his worship, the justice of the district," said the prisoner,
looking at Mr. Skinner: "he knows what made me a robber." And he
proceeded to tell the tale of his first crime.
"It's true; it's as true as Gospel," sighed Kishlaki. "I came to
Tissaret on the day after the thing had happened, when the sheriff told
me all about it."
"_Nihil ad rem!_" said Zatonyi.
"But what does it avail me?" continued the prisoner, whose pale face
became flushed as he spoke: "what can it avail me to tell you all the
revolting cruelties which were practised against me, and which to think
of gives me pain? Am I the less a robber? Will these things cause you to
spare me? No; I ought to have suffered the stripes, and kissed the hands
of my tyrant; or I ought to have left my wife in her darkest hour,
because nothing would serve my lady but that _I_ should drive her to
Dustbury. How, then, could I, a good-for-nothing peasant[26], dare to
love my wife! How could I dare to resist when the justice told them to
tie me to the whipping-post! But I dared to do it. I was fool enough to
fancy that I, though a peasant, had a right to remain with my wife; I
could not understand that a poor man is a dog, which any body may beat
and kick. Here I am, and you may hang me."
[Footnote 26: See Note IX.]
"I'll tell you what, you'll swing fast enough, my fine fellow!" said
Zatonyi, whose cynicism was not proof against the prisoner's last words.
"What, man! hanging's too good for you; that's all I have to say!"
"You see, sir," said Viola, appealing to Völgyeshy, "you see, I told you
there is nothing that can excuse me in the eyes of mankind. But there's
a request I have to address to the court."
Mr. Catspaw trembled, as the prisoner went on.
"When I left the burning hut in which Ratz Andor shot himself, I held
some papers in my hands, which were stolen from the house of the notary
of Tissaret."
"So you confess to the robbery?" cried Zatonyi.
"No, sir; I do not. God knows, I am guiltless of that robbery," cried
Viola, raising his hands to heaven: "but that's no matter. All I say is,
that I had the papers, and that I took them away with me; and if you
mean to prove by that that I committed the robbery, you may. I do not
care: all I say is, that I took the papers with me."
"It's a lie!" murmured Mr. Skinner.
"No; it's not a lie: it's the truth, and nothing but the truth! When I
left the hut I was blind and unarmed: I held the papers in my hands, and
I felt some one snatch them away from me--I can take my oath on it!--and
my senses left me; when I recovered I was bound, and in the hands of the
Pandurs and peasants. They dragged me to St. Vilmosh. I asked for the
papers, for they belong to Mr. Tengelyi; and it was for their sake I
surrendered, because I did not wish them to be burnt; for they are the
notary's important papers. But I understand that, when I left the hut,
there was no one by except the justice and Mr. Catspaw; and the justice
says that I had no papers. I most humbly beseech the court to order the
justice to give those papers to the rightful owner."
"May the devil take me by ounces if I've seen the least rag of paper!"
cried Mr. Skinner.
"Sir," said Viola, "I am in your power: you may do with me as you
please; you may hang me if you like; but, for God's sake! do not deny
me the papers. I am under great obligations to Mr. Tengelyi. He relieved
my family in the time of their distress; and I wish to show my gratitude
by restoring those papers to him. I have come to suffer a disgraceful
death----"
"You impertinent dog!" cried Mr. Skinner; "how dare you insinuate? how
dare you say? how dare you---- I am insulted; I insist on the court
giving me satisfaction."
"I am in the hands of the court," said the prisoner. "Beat me, kick me,
torture me; but give me the papers!"
"I am sure it's a plot," whispered Mr. Catspaw to the assessor.
"Tengelyi declares that his diplomas are gone. Who knows but he may be a
patron of this fellow?"
"Nothing is more likely," replied the assessor.
"What, fellow! what, dog! do you mean to say that I _stole_ the papers?"
"All I say is, that I _had_ the papers in my hands, and that some person
took them away. I wish the court would please to examine the Pandurs,
who will tell you that nobody was near me but the justice and Mr.
Catspaw."
"This is indeed strange," murmured Mr. Kishlaki. Mr. Skinner pushed his
chair back, and cried,--
"The court cannot possibly suffer one of its members to be accused of
theft!"
"Yes, too much is too much," said Zatonyi, with a burst of generous
indignation: "if you do not revoke your words, and if you do not ask
their worships' pardon, we will send you to the yard and have you
whipped!"
Viola answered quietly, that he was in their worships' power, but that
he would repeat what he had said to the last moment of his life; and
Zatonyi was just about to send the prisoner away to be whipped, when
Völgyeshy reminded him in Latin that the Sixth Chapter of the Articles
made not only prohibition of what the assessor had been pleased to term
"wheedling," but also of threats and ill-treatment.
Baron Shoskuty remarked, that the young lawyer's explanation of the
articles was sheer nonsense, for the prisoner would not be under
restraint, if Mr. Völgyeshy's commentaries were accepted as law. He
might call the worshipful magistrates asses; nay, he might even go to
the length of beating them, without suffering any other punishment than
being hanged. This able rejoinder induced the judges to re-consider Mr.
Zatonyi's proposition to inflict corporal punishment on the prisoner,
and nobody can say what would have come of it, but for the firmness of
Völgyeshy, who protested that he would inform the lord-lieutenant and
the government of any act of violence to which they might subject the
culprit. This threat had its effect. Baron Shoskuty, indeed, was heard
to murmur against the impertinence of young men; while Mr. Zatonyi made
some edifying reflections about sneaking informers: but this was all. No
further mention was made of the whipping.
While the above conversation was being carried on in a tongue of which
he could but catch the sounds, and not the meaning, Viola stood quietly
by, although a lively interest in the words and motions of the speakers
was expressed in his face. Messrs. Catspaw and Skinner conversed in a
whisper. At length the attorney turned round and addressed the court:--
"As the prisoner has thought proper to accuse _me_," said he, "it is but
right that I should be allowed to ask him a few questions. You said I
was near you when you left the hut, did you not? Now tell me, did you
see me at the time?"
"No, I did not; I was blind with the smoke and fire in the hut: but the
peasants told me that the two gentlemen were near me, and I felt
somebody snatch the papers from my hand."
"Do you mean to say that the smoke in the hut was very dense?"
"I could not see through it; at times the flames were so fierce that
they nearly blinded me."
"But how did you manage to save the papers?"
"They lay by my side on my bunda. I seized them, and took them out. They
were wrapped in a blue handkerchief."
"He speaks the truth," said Mr. Catspaw, smiling; "or, rather, he tells
us what he believes to be the truth. He held something in his hand, when
he rushed from the hut more like a beast than like a human creature, I
assure you, my honourable friends. I was not at all sure whether it was
not a weapon of defence; I snatched it away, and on examination I
identified it as a most harmless handkerchief, which certainly was
wrapped round some soft substance. But," continued he, addressing the
prisoner, "if you fancy you saved the papers, my poor fellow, you are
much mistaken, indeed you are! My dear Mr. Skinner, pray fetch the
parcel which we took from Viola at the time of his capture."
Mr. Skinner rose and left the room.
"The papers were in the handkerchief, I'll swear!" said Viola; but his
astonishment and rage were unbounded when the judge returned with the
parcel, which, on examination, was found to contain a pair of cotton
drawers. He knew it was the handkerchief, the same in which he had
wrapped the papers, and yet they were not there! How could he prove that
they had been stolen?
"I trust my honourable friends are convinced," said Mr. Catspaw, "that
the wretched man has no intention of imposing upon the court. I believe,
indeed nothing can be more probable than that he was possessed of
Tengelyi's documents; and it is likewise very probable that he intended
to save those papers; but, according to his own statement, he was half
blind with the fire and smoke, and instead of the papers he took another
parcel--some other booty perhaps. Nothing can be more natural----"
"Yes, indeed!" interposed Baron Shoskuty. "_Nemo omnibus!_--you know!
Awkward mistakes will happen. Perhaps you will be pleased to remember
the fire in the house of the receiver of revenues in the ---- county.
The poor man was so bewildered with fear, that all he managed to get out
of the house was a pair of old boots. The whole of the government money
was burnt. The visiting justices found the money-box empty--empty, I
say! All the bank notes were burnt, and nothing was left but a small
heap of ashes."
"Gentlemen!----" said Viola at length; but Mr. Catspaw interrupted him.
"I implore my honourable friends not to resent any thing this wretched
creature may say! I am sure he speaks from his conscience; nor is he
deserving of chastisement. He is a prey to what we lawyers term
'_Ignorantia invincibilis_!'"
"Of course! of course!" said Baron Shoskuty. "It's a legal remedy, you
know."
"Gentlemen!" said the prisoner, "I am a poor condemned criminal; but the
judge and Mr. Catspaw are mighty men. And I am doomed to appear this day
before God's judgment-seat! What motive should I have for not telling
you the truth? May I be damned now and for ever,--yes, and may God
punish my children to the tenth generation,--if the papers were not in
this very cloth!"
"I told you so!" said Mr. Catspaw, still smiling. "I knew it. This man
is doting,--'_borné_,' to use a French term. He'd say the same if we
were to put him on the rack!"
"It is all very natural," said he to the prisoner. "You've made a
mistake, that's all. Pray be reasonable, and consider, if you had
brought Mr. Tengelyi's papers from the hut, what reason could I, or Mr.
Skinner, have for refusing to produce them?"
"Of course!" said Baron Shoskuty. "What reason could these gentlemen
have? How is it possible to suppose such a thing?"
Viola was silent. He stood lost in deep and gloomy thoughts. At last he
raised his head, and asked that the attendants might be sent away,
adding, "I am in chains, and there are no less than six of you. You are
safe, I assure you."
The room was cleared. Viola looked at Mr. Catspaw, and said:--
"What I have to tell you, will astonish you all, except Mr. Catspaw. I
never wished to mention it, and I would not now allow the servants to
hear it, for my wife and children live at Tissaret, and the Retys may
perhaps be induced to pity the poor orphans. But if it is asked what
reason the attorney can have for not producing the notary's papers, I
will simply say that Mr. Catspaw is most likely to know his own mind and
his own reasons, and good reasons they must be, to induce him to bribe
somebody to steal the papers,--for, to tell you the truth, it was he who
planned the robbery."
The attorney trembled.
"Really, this man _is_ malicious!" cried he. "I am curious to know what
can induce him to accuse an honest man of such a thing?"
"Don't listen to his nonsense!" said Baron Shoskuty.
But Mr. Völgyeshy insisted on the prisoner's being heard, and Viola told
them the history of the robbery, from the evening on which he listened
to the attorney's conversation with Lady Rety, to the night in which he
seized the Jew in Tengelyi's house, knocked him down, and fled with the
papers. The only circumstances which he did not mention were, the fact
of his having been hid in the notary's house when Messrs. Catspaw and
Skinner pursued him in Tissaret, and his conversations with the Liptaka
and Peti. Mr. Catspaw listened with a smile of mingled fear and
contempt; and when Viola ceased speaking, he asked for permission to put
a few questions to the prisoner.
"Not, indeed," said he, "for the purpose of defending myself or Lady
Rety against so ridiculous an accusation, but merely to convince this
fellow of the holes, nay, of the large gaps, in his abominable tissue of
falsehoods." And turning to Viola, he asked:--
"Did you inform anybody of the conversation which you pretend to have
overheard between me and Lady Rety?"
"No, I did not."
"Pray consider my question. Is there any one to whom you said that some
one wished to steal the notary's papers? We ought to know your
associates. Now, did you not speak to Peti the gipsy, or to that old
hag, the Liptaka?"
Viola persisted in denying the fact. He was too well aware of the
disastrous consequences this avowal would have for his friends.
Mr. Catspaw went on.
"Where did you hide at the time we pursued you in Tissaret?"
Viola replied that he was not in Tissaret.
"Do you mean to say you were not in the village?"
"No!"
The attorney sent for the old Liptaka, to whom he read her depositions,
from which it appeared that the prisoner attempted to inform Tengelyi of
the intended robbery.
"What do you say to this evidence?" added he.
"That it is true, every word of it. I'll swear to the truth of my
words!" said she.
"Viola has confessed," said Mr. Catspaw, "that he told you of the
matter, when hiding in the notary's house, while we pursued him through
Tissaret. Is there any truth in this statement?"
The Liptaka, feeling convinced that Viola must have confessed as much,
said it was quite true, but that Tengelyi was ignorant of the prisoner's
presence. The old woman was sent away, and Mr. Catspaw, turning to the
court, asked triumphantly:--
"Did you ever hear of such impertinence? The prisoner protests that he
did not inform anybody of the alleged intended robbery; and the old
woman swears that Viola did inform her, for the purpose of cautioning
the notary. Then, again, the old woman did not say any thing to the
notary, without having any ostensible reason for not doing what she
alleges she promised to do. The prisoner will have it that he was not in
Tissaret at the time we pursued him; and the witness--why, gentlemen,
the witness deposes that the subject in question was mentioned to her at
that very time. I say, you great fool! if you had time for another batch
of lies, I would advise you to make out a better story. But let us go
on. Who told you that the Jew and Tzifra intended to rob the notary?"
"I cannot answer that question," replied Viola.
"Indeed? What a pity! I'd like to know the gentleman who gives you such
correct information; unless, indeed, you keep a '_familiaris_,'--a
devil, I mean."
"The only thing I told you was, that I knew of the robbery."
"But how did you know of it?"
"The Jew and Tzifra talked about it in the pot-house near Dustbury."
"Were you present? Did you hear them?"
"No! I had it from a friend."
"I'm sure it was your '_familiaris_,'--your devil, you artful dodger!"
said Mr. Catspaw, smiling; "but since you knew that the robbery was to
take place, why did you not inform the justice of it?"
"I was outlawed; a prize was offered for my head."
"Indeed, so it was; but your friend, why did not he inform the proper
authorities? Was he also _wanted_? and if so, why did he not inform
Tengelyi, or Mr. Vandory, who I understand has likewise lost his
papers?"
"I cannot tell you. Perhaps he did not find the notary. At all events,
he knew that I would prevent the robbery, so he told me of it."
"A very extraordinary thing, this!" said Mr. Catspaw; "for a man to
apply to a robber with a view to prevent a robbery! And you wanted to
prevent the robbery, did you not? Now tell me, did you set about it by
yourself? And what became of your comrade,--I mean the man who told you
about it? Did he, too, go to Tissaret?"
"There was no occasion for it."
"Still it is very extraordinary that you should not have hunted in
couples, knowing as you did that there were two men to commit the
robbery. What a capital thing for you if you could summon your comrades
to explain it all! For if some went to Tissaret to prevent the robbery,
there can be no harm in our knowing who your comrade is. He ought to be
rewarded for his zeal."
"I had no comrade. I was alone!" said Viola.
"Very well, you were alone; let it be so. Whom did you see in the
notary's house?"
"No one but the Jew; he who is now waiting in the hall."
"Did you see Tzifra?"
"No. The Jew alone was in the house."
"But the Jew swears that it was you who committed the robbery!"
"I don't care. I've said what I've said."
"Is there any thing else you have to say?"
"No."
"Very well. I've done with you," said the attorney, as he rang for the
servants.
"Take him away," said he, as the haiduks made their appearance. Viola
turned round and left the room.
CHAP. VII.
The contradictory statements of Viola and the Liptaka, and the character
of improbability which seemed to swim on the very surface of the charge
against Mr. Catspaw and Lady Rety, convinced the court that the whole of
Viola's confession was a stupid and malicious attempt to save his life
by means of another crime,--we quote Mr. Skinner's elegant address to
his friends. Völgyeshy himself could not pretend to give a moment's
belief to so utterly ridiculous a story.
"The business is as clear as daylight," said the assessor, at the close
of Mr. Skinner's speech. "The culprit makes no denial. All we have to do
is to make him sign his depositions, to confront him with the witnesses,
and to pronounce the sentence. It's just two o'clock. The prisoner ought
to have three hours to say his prayers in, and the sun sets before five.
My opinion is that we ought to look sharp!"
"I do not see why," said Kishlaki, whose anxiety increased as the
proceedings drew to a close.
"Why, indeed? Did I not tell you that I must go home to-night? There are
the potatoes, and the ploughmen, and what not!"
"We ought, indeed, to make haste," cried Baron Shoskuty, who, it
appeared, cared more for his dinner than for the sentence. "We cannot
allow our beautiful hostess to wait dinner for us."
"You cannot finish the proceedings to-day!" interposed Völgyeshy. "The
prisoner's depositions are of great length. I want at least two hours to
transcribe them from my notes."
"Nothing of the kind!" cried Mr. Skinner. "After Viola's capture I
examined him in the presence of Mr. Kenihazy. He has not since thought
proper to alter or revoke any thing in his former depositions; and
though I am sure you would do the thing more elegantly and neatly, yet I
flatter myself that our work will do for the present."
To this Völgyeshy replied, that though the prisoner had not indeed
altered or protested against his first depositions, still that he had
said many things which were not mentioned in the minutes of the first
examination, and that these additional details ought also to be
carefully added to the body of the evidence.
"What the deuce do you mean?" said Shoskuty, with a degree of
astonishment which did honour to his sense of justice--"can you think of
mentioning that Mr. Catspaw and the sheriff's lady intended to rob the
notary of his papers?"
"Of course. Any thing the prisoner may have said in court."
"This is truly monstrous!" cried Mr. Skinner.
"You know your duty, but allow me to inform you that I know mine. It is
yours to judge: it is mine to record the proceedings."
"_Sed rogo, domine spectabilis!_" cried Zatonyi, "is your head turned?
What on earth are you thinking of?"
"Of my duty," replied Völgyeshy; "it is my duty, I take it, to make a
clear and perfect statement of the case."
"But in every case there is a deal of irrelevant matter. Suppose the
prisoner were to preach us a sermon, or he were to give us the
prescription of a plaster for corns and bunions, would you state that
kind of thing?"
"My opinion of the prisoner's statements is, that they are not
irrelevant."
"But, my dear friend," said the Baron, with the greatest possible
politeness, "only please to consider that our friend Zatonyi must go
home to-night on account of his potatoes, which he will be prevented
from doing if you persist in your intention of taking down all the
nonsense which the culprit told us. And pray consider, dear sir, that
Lady Kishlaki's dinner will be spoilt! It's but common politeness to
make an end of it, and have done."
"The life of a fellow creature is at least quite as much worth as Mr.
Zatonyi's potatoes; and, as for common politeness, I, for one, care more
for common fairness."
"I should think so!" muttered Zatonyi.
"But, sir, you are uncommonly stiff-necked!" sighed the Baron.
"Why," said Mr. Kishlaki, nervously, "it strikes me that we had better
adjourn till to-morrow morning. By that time, I trust, Mr. Völgyeshy
will have completed his labours, and Mr. Zatonyi----"
"No! it's utterly impossible! Nobody can be more zealous than I am. I am
always at sessions, always! but to neglect my household duties for a
mere whim--an idle fancy----"
"God forbid that you should!" said Kishlaki, kindly. "But since Mr.
Völgyeshy tells us that he feels in conscience bound to take down the
whole of the prisoner's depositions, and since he cannot possibly do it
in half an hour----"
"Ej Bliktri!" said Zatonyi, angrily; "I've attended a score of
courts-martial, and in cases too which it would take a common court many
months to come to the bottom of, and for all that we never wanted more
than a day for the trial and hanging; and am I to be stopped by this
case? I never heard of such pretensions as Mr. Völgyeshy's! It is said
in the articles that the prisoner is to sign his depositions; that his
name, age, crime, and the manner of his capture are to be mentioned in
the said depositions; but it is nowhere said that they must contain any
nonsense which the prisoner may be pleased to talk; and I ask you, Mr.
Völgyeshy, sir! why on earth do you persist in your extraordinary, and,
let me say, ridiculous conduct?"
"Because I think it requisite for the credibility of the proceedings;
and besides, you are aware that a suit on the question of noble descent
is being preferred against the notary of Tissaret. This suit is
materially affected by Viola's confession, which proves that certain
papers were feloniously taken from the notary's house."
"It strikes me," exclaimed Mr. Catspaw, "that there are persons who
insist on my own name, and especially that of my Lady Rety, being
mentioned in the minutes, and in a highly insulting and offensive
manner too. Well, be it so! Lady Rety will at least have one advantage,
that of knowing her friends; for everybody must see that to mention this
affair is perfectly gratuitous."
"God forbid!" said Baron Shoskuty, "that any thing should be recorded in
the minutes which might give her ladyship only a moment's uneasiness;
indeed----"
"_Tot capita, tot sensus_," proceeded the attorney; "but my honourable
friends must admit that my Lady Rety and your humble servant cannot feel
pleased with Viola's calumnious statements being sent to his Excellency
and the government, particularly since the robber's death deprives us of
all means of proving the falsehood of his statements. And I put it to
you whether it is becoming and decent in a man of Mr. Völgyeshy's
character and position to make the duties of his office serve him as a
means for his revenge? for we all know that he is among the most zealous
of Mr. Rety's opponents."
"It's really infamous, that it is!" cried Mr. Skinner.
"I won't suffer it!" growled the assessor.
Shoskuty shook his head, and bewailed the factious spirit of the county,
which caused certain individuals to take advantage of judicial
proceedings, for the purpose of annoying their political adversaries.
Mr. Kishlaki, who had his reasons for avoiding any thing in the shape of
a quarrel with the Rety family, endeavoured to mediate between the
hostile parties. "I am sure," said he, "Mr. Völgyeshy has no idea of
insulting our respected sheriff, though he forgot that his intention
must necessarily grieve the illustrious family of the Retys. If the
papers remained in the archives of the county, there could be no harm in
your recording the whole of the evidence; but as this is not the case, I
am sure, sir, you cannot wish to annoy one of the greatest families of
the county; for I take it you must be aware of the truth of Mr.
Catspaw's argument, that the death of the prisoner deprives the very
respectable persons whom he has slandered of the means of putting him to
shame."
"What prevents Mr. Catspaw from preserving the means of defence?" said
Völgyeshy, with a flush of generous excitement in his pale cheeks.
The worshipful gentlemen looked amazed, but the lawyer proceeded:
"A single dissentient vote is enough to save the prisoner's life. If Mr.
Catspaw thinks that Viola's confession is likely to injure him or Lady
Rety, let him give that vote, and thus preserve the possibility of
disproving Viola's statements."
"Oh, yes!" cried Mr. Kishlaki, eager to obtain the two objects next to
his heart, namely, the liberation of the prisoner and the conciliation
of the Rety family. "Yes, sir; to show my high respect for the sheriff,
I am ready to give that vote!"
"_Per amorem! Domine spectabilis!_" shrieked Zatonyi; "do you mean to
say that the fellow is not to be hanged?"
"Shocking! shocking!" sighed Baron Shoskuty, with an appealing look to
heaven; "the robber is in our hands; our honourable friend Mr. Skinner
has covered himself with glory, and risked his life, in capturing him;
he indicts him before a court-martial, and _we_--_we_ discharge the
fellow! Nobody ever heard of such a thing!"
"I, for one," cried Mr. Skinner, "won't allow you to make a fool of me!
What the devil! is a man to risk his life for nothing? You won't catch
me again at this kind of thing, I assure you!"
"Not hang the rascal?" roared Zatonyi. "I've attended scores of
courts-martial, but I never heard of any thing like it. It's
prostituting justice! it's protecting crime! it's----"
"Of course; so it is," said Baron Shoskuty; "it's putting a premium on
robbery! it's a deleterious example!"
"Public safety will go to the dogs!" howled Mr. Skinner; and they all
spoke at once: "Scandalous!--infamous!--new doctrines!--_fautores
criminum!_--disgrace!" such were the words which predominated in this
Babel of angry voices, until Mr. Völgyeshy at length silenced them. He
protested what he wanted was not the liberation of the prisoner, but the
transmission of the prosecution to the ordinary court.
"Of course!" sneered Mr. Zatonyi; "are we not aware of the practice of
the court? I know of three cases,--I was not present, for if I had been
I would not have allowed it; but I know of three cases in which the
prisoners were sent to the courts; and what was the consequence? Why,
one of them was sentenced to three months', and the second to a year's
imprisonment; as for the third, they let him off altogether, though I'd
bet you any thing the fellow was a robber. Don't you think, sir, we are
so green as all that! The county has the right of court-martial for the
purpose of using it; and use it we will!"
"I do not think that the courts-martial were granted under the express
condition that a few people should be hanged every year," said
Völgyeshy.
"It appears," said Mr. Catspaw, "that the liberation of the prisoner,
or, at least, his prosecution in a common court, has been proposed for
the purpose of favouring the Lady Rety and me. But I feel myself
authorised to protest, in Lady Rety's name, that neither she nor I can
consent to the court allowing themselves to be influenced by any private
feelings in our favour, however flattering those feelings may be to her
ladyship."
"Mr. Catspaw, sir, you are a gentleman!" said Baron Shoskuty; and the
question was at once put, whether the prisoner's first depositions
should be authenticated, or whether it was advisable to make out a new
relation of the facts, and to adjourn the sentence to the following day.
Kishlaki advocated the second alternative; but he was overruled by the
court, and nothing was left to Völgyeshy but to declare that he would
not and could not obey the instructions of the court. Kishlaki was
greatly shocked by this declaration; Zatonyi swore; the Baron rose, and
shaking his most honourable friend's hand, he entreated him to pardon
them if their resolution was offensive to him.
"Consider the _homo sum, amice_! consider the _nihil humanum_!--we all
pay unbounded respect to your principles and talents, but to the
majority you ought to submit. Consider that every body does so, and I am
sure you will see----"
But Völgyeshy protested that he could not, in the present case, _join_
the decision of the majority, though he acknowledged he had no legal
remedy against them. That was the reason why he wished to withdraw. His
firmness, or (as Shoskuty called it) obstinacy, threw the court into
hopeless confusion, and there is no saying what they would not have
done, if Mr. Catspaw had not volunteered to discharge the functions of a
notary.
"Sir, your offer is accepted, gratefully accepted, I say," cried
Zatonyi. "Mr. Völgyeshy, who has just entered the service, will in time
find out that a man is none the worse for doing his duty according to
the decision of a majority. Leave him alone with his principles! he'll
soon get tired of them, I'll warrant you!"
"Mr. Völgyeshy," said the attorney, with a sneer, "has brought the
matter to this point for the purpose of saving the prisoner's life,--a
noble and generous feeling, gentlemen, especially in this time of
general philanthropy,--quite a romantic feeling, I assure you,
gentlemen. But we, who are older, and, let me say so, tougher, cannot
imitate his example, though I trust the noble young man gives me credit
for appreciating his motives. As I told you, I am ready to officiate in
his place; but I think Mr. Völgyeshy, seeing that his refusal to act has
no effect upon us, will not persist in his refusal. Am I right, my
generous young friend?"
But the generous young friend rose, and pushing his batch of papers to
Mr. Catspaw, he declared that nothing could induce him to take a part in
the proceedings, which he went to the length of designating as an act of
judicial tyranny.
This bold declaration called forth a fresh torrent of abuse.
"Disgraceful!" cried Mr. Skinner.
"It's infamous!" said Zatonyi.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, sir!" snarled Mr. Catspaw.
"Gentlemen," said Völgyeshy, when their frantic rage had in a manner
subsided, "I meant no offence to any of you. Allow me to explain what I
said."
"Explain? What the devil do you mean to explain, sir?" cried Zatonyi.
"Do you mean to say, sir, that we are murderers? Are you aware that you
have no vote? To insult the judges is an infamous act; d--n you, sir,
you're infamous, sir!"
"Yes!" said the Baron; "let us pass a resolution to that effect."
"Do you mean to do it by court-martial?" asked Völgyeshy, with a
scornful smile.
"Yes, sir! In any way, sir! I'm sure _I_ don't care. Whoever insults the
judges or the court is infamous! That's written law, sir! it's in the
_corpus juris_. And you'll find it law, sir, and to your cost, sir!"
"It is _ad horribilationem_!" groaned Zatonyi.
"You may, if you please, pass a resolution of infamy against me," said
Völgyeshy; "but permit me, not indeed for the sake of those who care for
nothing except the execution of the prisoner, but out of love and
respect for your president----"
"_Captatio benevolentiæ!_" cried Zatonyi. "Our respected president wants
no flatteries from the like of you!"
"----direct the attention of the court----"
"The attention of the court wants no direction whatever," said the
Baron.
"----to the heavy responsibility which rests with every one of you, if
the present proceedings are brought to a fatal end."
"What, the devil! are the judges to be made responsible? I never in all
my life----"
"Halljuk! halljuk!" said Kishlaki, who listened with great eagerness.
Völgyeshy took the articles, and pointed out to the court that their
safety consisted in the strict legality of their proceedings, and that
the present case did not come within their jurisdiction.
"_Crassa ignorantia!_" said Zatonyi, contemptuously, "as is but too
common among the young gentlemen of the present day. Viola's case is a
court-martial case with a vengeance!"
"But the details----"
"_Crassa ignorantia!_" cried the assessor, raising his voice. "Did he
not resist the capture? Did he steal Tengelyi's papers because they were
eatables? which, I admit, would constitute an extenuating circumstance;
or is he under age, or a lunatic? Or is the gang to which he belongs
indicted before any court at law?"
Völgyeshy remarked, that the case was so intricate that it would take
the court at least three days to sift it.
"Three days, indeed! I'd do away with twenty of these rascals in much
less time than that!"
"It seems you have forgotten what the prisoner said concerning certain
accusations----"
"Which have nothing whatever to do with the question at issue," cried
Baron Shoskuty; "there's no mention of them in the minutes. I mean to
forget them."
"Sir!"
"Baron Shoskuty is right," said the assessor; "the prisoner's
nonsensical talk has nothing in common with the _species facti_--it's no
use mentioning it."
"But what is to become of the completeness of the record?" cried
Völgyeshy, angrily.
"It's a stupid formality. See chapter 6. paragraph 5. of the articles,
where it is provided that the court is at liberty to dispense with the
forms of the courts at law."
"Yes, we can do as we please, and in the very teeth of all manners of
forms, too," said the Baron.
"Of course you can hang the prisoner!" shouted Völgyeshy; "but I protest
that what you do is an act of violence, not of justice!"
"Hold your tongue, sir!----"
"The members of this court have no right to sit in it!--I appeal to the
articles!"
"Outrageous!" cried Zatonyi, rising from his chair; "what! are we not
assessors?--have we not taken our oaths?--are we not----?"
"Are we not lawyers of unblemished character?--men of firmness and
impartiality?" continued the Baron.
"Turn him out!" roared Mr. Skinner.
"Actio! Actio!" gasped Baron Shoskuty in his turn.
"I protest you are not impartial!" said Völgyeshy.
"Bliktri!" snarled Zatonyi; "what have the articles to do with
impartiality?"
"Very true! but suppose impartiality _were_ required," said Shoskuty,
violently, "suppose it _were_ required, what then? Are we not strictly
impartial? Which of us has said a single word in favour of the prisoner,
unless it be you? but, goodness be thanked! you've no vote, sir!"
"I am curious to know how you would manage to prove our want of
impartiality?" said Mr. Catspaw.
"I'll satisfy your curiosity, sir," said the young lawyer. "As for you,
you are accused, and it is evidently your interest to do away with the
accusation and the accuser. Of Mr. Skinner's want of impartiality there
can be no question. What shall we say of a judge who degrades his
office to the level of the hangman?"
"Meanness! Impertinence! Turn him out! Actio!" screamed the judges.
"No! You are not impartial! You are thirsting for the prisoner's blood!
You want his life to shield your own misdeeds! There is vendetta between
you and the prisoner! But I will not suffer it! I will publish the
proceedings! I will complain to the lord-lieutenant! I will----"
"Base informer! are you aware of the laws of 1805? Turn him out!" roared
the court; and Völgyeshy, finding that nothing could persuade them,
turned to leave the room, when Mr. Skinner rose and seized him by the
arm.
"Be off, you miscreant!" roared the valorous judge.
Völgyeshy pushed him back, and taking his hat, he bowed to the
president, and withdrew.
The uproar in the justice-room attracted the attention of the people
outside in no slight degree. The conversation of the haiduks, Pandurs,
witnesses, and servants gradually ceased, and every one listened to the
noise of angry voices in the justice-room. The Liptaka sat close by the
door listening to the dispute, and from time to time she would turn to
the smith and inform him that Viola's case was very bad; "for," said
she, "if the gentlemen get out of temper with each other, they always
manage to make a poor body suffer for it:" a remark to which the smith
did not fail to respond with deep sighs.
Viola alone paid no attention to the quarrels of his judges. Surrounded
by a troop of armed men, he leaned against one of the wooden pillars of
the hall, looking towards the gate where his wife and children stood.
All the robber's thoughts were of them. When the door opened, and
Völgyeshy entered the hall, Viola turned round, for he thought they had
sent for him to read his sentence. He longed for it; for the Pandurs had
told him that, after hearing it, he would be allowed to speak to his
wife. Calling to Völgyeshy, as the latter approached, he said: "Is it
over?"
"Not quite," answered the lawyer.
"But why do you leave them?"
"I have no vote. I cannot be of any use to you."
"I thought so," said Viola, with a bitter smile. "God bless you for
having given yourself all this trouble for the sake of a poor man; but,
if you will show me pity, tell them to allow my wife to come to me.
There she stands, by the gate; there she stands, with her children!
They've pushed her back: they will not let her speak to me! All I want
is to have her with me. You see I am chained and closely watched, and
in a few hours I shall be a dead man. What harm can there be in
lessening the anguish of my poor, wretched wife!"
Völgyeshy said nothing; but he walked precipitately up to the place
where Susi stood, took her by the hand, and led her to Viola's arms. The
wretched people did not speak: they wept, and trembled; the little boy
took and kissed his father's hand, sore as it was with the weight of the
chain: and the large tear-drops rolled over the robber's pale face.
The burst of generous indignation in which the members of the court had
for a time indulged was, meanwhile, subsiding. Mr. Catspaw, seated in
Völgyeshy's place, arranged that gentleman's papers and notes to his own
liking; and though Mr. Skinner still continued to vent his spleen in
frequent and indecent exclamations against the young lawyer's
impertinence, it was found that none of the other members of the court
sympathised with his protracted irascibility. Baron Shoskuty and the
assessor Zatonyi talked of their dinner and other important matters. Mr.
Kishlaki alone seemed distressed and nervous.
Viola was at length summoned before the court to sign his depositions.
When they were read to him, he observed that they contained none of his
statements about Tengelyi's papers; but upon Mr. Catspaw informing him
that he was merely required to testify to the correctness of those
things which _were_ stated, and that the other parts of his confession
would be taken down separately, he made no further objections, but
signed his name, to the immoderate satisfaction of the cunning attorney.
Nothing was now wanting but the sentence. The assessor yawned fearfully,
offered his snuff-box to everybody, and protested that he had never had
so troublesome a sitting. Baron Shoskuty consulted his watch (for the
twentieth time, at least), and informed the court that it was past three
o'clock, and that the want of his dinner had given him a headache:
_denique_, (to use his own words,) "there was no time to be lost."
Acting up to this hint, Mr. Catspaw made a short _résumé_ of the facts;
and concluded by protesting that there could be no doubt about the
sentence of capital punishment. Mr. Skinner said the same. Mr. Zatonyi
laughed, and swore that Miss Lydia Languish herself could not find
another verdict!--an opinion upon which the Baron commented at great
length, for the purpose of finally adopting it. Mr. Kishlaki alone sat
silent and anxious, turning to each of the judges with a sigh as each
recorded his sentence; until, at length, he pretended to fall into a fit
of profound meditation.
"Really," said Baron Shoskuty, at length, producing his watch to add to
the strength of his arguments, "I must ask my honourable friend's pardon
for disturbing him in his reflections on the enormity of the crime; but
really we ought not to abuse Lady Kishlaki's patience."
"You are right," said the president, greatly relieved; "quite right, my
dear sir: let us adjourn till to-morrow morning. This confounded
execution cannot possibly take place to-day."
"Oh! why should it not?" asked Zatonyi, indignantly. "Did I not tell you
that I must go home? My potatoes----"
"We are bound to grant the prisoner at least three hours," said the
president; "and it's quite dark at five o'clock. You would not hang him
by candlelight, would you?"
"My honourable friend is quite right," cried Shoskuty. "We ought to have
a game at tarok after all this trouble. Besides, I owe the gentlemen
their revenge for the pagat. But why should we not pass the sentence
to-night, and have it executed at an early hour to-morrow morning?"
"Because," said Mr. Kishlaki, nervously,--"because the decision rests
with me; and--because--I must own--that I have not yet made up my mind."
"_Domine spectabilis!_" cried Zatonyi, clasping his hands. "You, at your
time of life! You, who have served the county so many years, you have
not made up your mind? I've attended a score of courts-martial, and _I_
always made up my mind in less than a second. What would your enemies
say, if they knew it?"
Mr. Skinner, too, expressed his scorn of such weakness of mind in the
strongest terms; still Kishlaki would not be persuaded either to absolve
or to condemn the prisoner. He entreated his friends to wait till the
morrow. But his request was obstinately opposed by Mr. Catspaw, who knew
the man he had to deal with, and who was aware that Kishlaki would not
be able to resist the entreaties of his wife and son, and the reasonings
of Völgyeshy, if he was allowed to appear in their presence before he
had recorded his decision.
"I am sure," pleaded the attorney, "it cannot matter to us whether you
deliver your judgment to-day or to-morrow; but my wish is, that there
should be an end to the business. I wish it for the prisoner's sake.
After the sentence he will be at liberty to talk to his wife, to
prepare for death, and to make any arrangements he has to make. But if
it is really inconvenient, of course we cannot pretend that the
prisoner's wishes should be consulted in preference to yours."
Zatonyi, seeing the effect which these words had upon Kishlaki, remarked
that Viola was indeed a great criminal, whose agony ought in strict
justice to be prolonged _ad infinitum_; but that some consideration was
due to humanity, for he could not, he said, believe that any man in his
senses could for a moment doubt of the nature of the sentence, which his
honourable friend wished to delay. To this Mr. Catspaw replied, that
their worthy president could not have any such intention, and that he
(Mr. Catspaw) would never have dared to insinuate any such thing; but
that no one could be more fully aware than he (Mr. Catspaw) was, of the
solemn duty by which every judge was bound to disregard his own feelings
and passions; and that he (Mr. Catspaw) was convinced that his worthy
friend, Mr. Kishlaki, would eventually prove himself deserving of the
confidence of the county. And Baron Shoskuty gave them a homily on the
beauty of humane feelings, which, he said, imperatively demanded that
Viola should be sentenced off hand. And it was said, that it was
necessary to make an example, and that kindness to the wicked is cruelty
to the good. And Mr. Skinner told fearful tales of the enormities of
which Viola and his comrades had been guilty, and would be guilty,
unless a wholesome fear of courts-martial were propagated among the
people; till the poor old man, attacked on all sides, and unable to make
head against a torrent of arguments, which he had always been taught to
consider as irrefutable, was at length reduced to submission to the will
of his more crafty colleagues. With a deep sigh, he confirmed their
verdict.
"God sees my heart," said he, raising his eyes to heaven. "I know not
what I would give to spare the life of this man! but I cannot violate my
duty."
Mr. Catspaw commenced at once to draw up the sentence, while his friends
strove hard to dispel the gloom which settled on Kishlaki's face; when
the door was suddenly thrown open, and Susi, with a child in her arms,
rushed into the room, followed by two haiduks, who vainly strove to
detain her.
"Pity!" cried the wretched woman, throwing herself at Kishlaki's feet.
"Pity, sir! oh sir, don't kill my husband!"
Kishlaki would have raised her, but she resisted.
"No! no!" sobbed she; "let us kneel! let my child kneel! Come Pishta,
come, kiss this gentleman's hands! it is he who has to judge of your
father's life! Entreat him! pray to him, Pishta!"
"I pray, sir, do not kill my father!" sobbed the little boy.
"Did I ever--what impertinence!" cried Mr. Skinner. "This worshipful
court does not kill anybody!"
"No, God forbid!" said the poor woman; "do not mind the child's asking
you not to kill his father. He does not know what he says. He is the son
of a poor peasant; he has no education. I know I too talk wildly,
but----"
"My good woman," said Kishlaki, "my duties as a judge are painful, but
imperative and----"
"Oh, I do not ask the court to absolve him from all punishment. No! I do
not mean to say that. Punish him severely, cruelly, no matter how, only
don't kill him!--Oh! pardon me for saying the word. Oh, pardon me! Send
Viola to gaol for many years, for ever, if it must be so; but do spare
his life! Perhaps he has told you that he cares not for death--he is
fond of talking in this way--but don't believe what he said! When he
said it, he had not seen his children; but now he has kissed little
Pishta, I am sure he will not say so; and the baby too smiled at him as
he stood in his chains. Oh! if you could but see the baby, and if you
could hear it calling its father with its small sweet voice, you'd never
believe Viola when he says he wishes to die!"
"D--n your squeaking!" growled Mr. Skinner, "and d--n the blockhead that
let her come in! Be off, I say! Your husband's a dead man; if he's
afraid of death, why so much the better!"
"Did I say he was afraid of death?" sighed poor Susi. "I told you a lie!
Viola longs for death! Death is no punishment for him! If you want to
punish him, you must lock him up! He's often told me he would rather die
than live in a prison!"
Kishlaki looked at her with streaming eyes. Shoskuty produced his watch.
"Oh! sir, I know you will send him to prison! What is death to him? It's
but the pain of a moment; but we are the sufferers. I have two
children--this boy and the other child, which the Liptaka has in her
arms--the Liptaka, I mean the old woman at the door; and what am I to do
if their father is hanged?"
Zatonyi remarked, very judiciously, that it made no difference to the
children whether their father was hanged or sent to prison for life.
"Oh! but it does, sir. It may make no difference to your worships, but
it does to us. I know he will be of good behaviour. I will walk to
Vienna, I will crawl on my hands and knees after the king until he
pardons my husband; and if he will not pardon him, I shall at least be
allowed to see him in prison; I can show him the children, and how they
have grown! I can bring him something to eat and to put on--oh! for
pity's sake, send him to prison! It's a heaven for me; but death is
fearful!"
"Fearful, indeed! It's half-past three!" sighed Shoskuty.
"Now do be quiet," said Zatonyi, taking a pinch of snuff. "Besides, it's
too late. We've passed the sentence."
"The sentence! The sentence of death!" shrieked Susi.
"It's at your service," sneered Mr. Skinner, pointing to a paper which
was just being folded up by Mr. Catspaw.
"But suppose it is bad--it is faulty," muttered the woman. "Suppose I
say it's wrong--for death is not a punishment to Viola--it's _I_ that am
punished!"
"It's done, and can't be undone," said Zatonyi; "don't bore us with your
useless lamentations."
"It wants but a quarter to four," said the Baron. "I wonder whether this
scene is to last any longer?"
"But I pray," said Susi, shuddering; "it's but a sheet of paper. If you
take another, and write some other words upon it, you can allow Viola to
live."
"Oh indeed! Why should we not? Be off, we've had trouble enough on your
account! Mr. Catspaw won't write another sentence to please you."
"Not to please me; but because it's a question of life and death."
"My good woman," sighed Kishlaki, wiping his eyes, "we have no power to
alter the sentence!"
"No power? No----"
"It is impossible!" said Zatonyi.
The poor woman shrieked and fell on the floor. She was taken away; and
the sentence was read to Viola.
As the judges left the room, Shoskuty said to Zatonyi:--
"God be thanked that it is over!"
"God be thanked, indeed! I've never heard of such a court-martial----"
"_Denique_, if the president is a donkey," remarked Shoskuty.
"Yes; a man who weeps at the mere squeaking of a woman!" said Mr.
Skinner, as he joined the two worthies; "unless we all dun him he won't
allow the execution to take place."
"It's four o'clock now, and I'll bet you any thing the dinner is spoilt;
and the roast meats used to be excellent!" said the Baron, with a deep
sigh.
CHAP. VIII.
On his way from the justice-room to the house, Völgyeshy met Kalman and
young Rety's servant, Janosh; the former of whom held an open letter in
his hand: and his stamping, his unequal paces, and the sudden manner in
which he would turn upon his companion, showed that he was labouring
under a strong excitement. At some distance a groom was walking two
horses, whose appearance showed that their riders had paid more
attention to time than to the health of their beasts.
Völgyeshy was not in a temper to seek the society of others; and
observing that young Kishlaki did not see him, he turned and walked to
the house. But Kalman, whose attention was directed to him by a few
words from the hussar, rushed after him, and cried--
"Is it over?"
The violence with which these words were pronounced, startled Völgyeshy.
He stood still and said:
"Yes, it is over! They had settled the matter before they commenced the
sitting. But that farce--or sitting, if you like--continues still."
"But what are you doing here? Are you not a member of the court?"
"I have a seat, but no vote; and I left them because----" Völgyeshy
paused, and added: "We had better not talk of these things here. Let us
go to your room, where I'll tell you all; besides, I have a request to
make of you."
"I say, Janosh!" cried Kalman. "Go to my servant and get something to
drink. My groom will take care of your horse."
"No, no, young gentleman!" said the old man, shaking his head; "my horse
is number one, and I'm number two. Meat after corn, sir, that's the way
we did it in our time; and, besides, you see I've brought my master's
own horse. He's a jewel, and I wouldn't trust him with that lad for any
thing."
"Do as you please, Janosh; but when the horse is provided for, I must
see you."
When the two young men had entered the house, Kalman turned to
Völgyeshy, and said,--"Now tell me why, in the name of all that is
reasonable, did you leave the court?"
"Because I would not be a party to a murder! because I scorned to be a
tool in their hands--because I would not lend my hand to their knavish
and diabolical designs!"
"My dear friend, you're out of temper! How can you talk of such things
when my father is one of the parties concerned? I am sure _he_ would
never be guilty of any knavery."
"That was _my_ opinion. Believe me no one _can_ respect your father more
than I do. He's a good and blessed man! I have always said so, and I say
so now; but your father is weak, and his weakness neutralises the best
feelings of his heart. The wickedness and folly of this world are not at
the doors of the wicked and foolish alone, but also at the doors of
those honest and good men, whose weakness and laziness,--let me say
whose _gentility_,--cause them to suffer what they have the power to
prevent. The wicked are powerful, not because of their numbers and
strength, but because they are reckless, energetic, and daring; while
the good and honest are weak, and though they would scorn to act, they
are not ashamed at conniving at any meanness which they may set
a-going."
"I agree with you," said Kalman, "and I fear the remark applies in a
manner to my father; but, abuse them as you like, only tell me what has
happened!"
Völgyeshy gave him a short account of the transaction, and Kalman
listened with evident distress.
"Never!" cried he, when Völgyeshy concluded his tale; "impossible! They
cannot condemn a fellow-creature in that manner. My father will never
consent to it!"
"He will consent--indeed, I am sure he has already given his consent.
The question was decided when it was resolved that Viola's confession
respecting Tengelyi's papers should not be mentioned in the records."
"Confound it!" cried Kalman "And that letter which they sent me from
Tissaret. I must save him in spite of a hundred courts-martial!"
"Did they send you a letter? Did the sheriff perhaps?"
"No; but you know Akosh is wounded--Etelka writes in his name. Read the
letter."
Völgyeshy took the paper and read as follows:--
"Tengelyi's papers are of the greatest importance.
There is reason to believe that my brother's
happiness, that the happiness of all of us, is
concerned in your recovering them. Viola did not
commit the robbery. Whatever he may have confessed on
this subject, it is all true. He has acted far more
nobly than any one else can do--it is horrible to
think that he is to suffer death for his generous
conduct. Certain persons will move heaven and earth to
obtain a verdict against him, for his death removes
the only witness in the case of the papers. I entreat
you to save him! it is the first favour I ever asked
of you; and the very generous manner in which you took
Tengelyi's part at the election, gives me hope that it
will not be the last.
"ETELKA."
"You see, I am bound to save him! I'd forfeit my life to save him! I'm
bound to do it," cried Kalman.
"There is some signal villany going on," said the lawyer; "this letter
shows that my suspicions are but too well founded."
"What in ----'s name are we to do! By Jove I'll go down and tell Catspaw
that he is a rascal, and a dirty thief, and----"
"Not so fast!" said Völgyeshy, stopping the impetuous young man in his
way to the door. "If you make a scene, you will spoil all. It strikes me
that that fellow Catspaw is but the tool of others, a dirty tool, I
grant you, but still a tool; and, unless I am very much mistaken, there
are some people mixed up in this affair, whom it would not be wise in
you, and much less in Akosh and Etelka, to involve in a criminal
prosecution."
"Yes; but I say, let me go down! A single vote can save him, and my
father----"
At that moment Janosh entered the room, and informed them that the
sitting was over, and that Viola was sentenced to death.
"Confound me!" cried Kalman; "confound my being away from home this
morning! I was aware that our Gulyash is a friend of Viola's! I believed
that he would be able to get the papers; so I talked to him last night,
but he told me he had not seen any thing of the robber. I returned last
night, and early this morning I left for our Puszta to see our Tshikosh.
Nothing was known of Viola's capture when I started. The Puszta is more
than eleven miles from here; and when I had rested my horse, and indeed
when I was on my way home, confound it! I got this letter."
"Yes, sir!" said Janosh; "I had no idea that your worship had gone to
the Puszta. I've been up and down the county in every direction, and all
to no purpose, until some one told me you had taken that way."
"I know it's not your fault, Janosh. It's that cursed fate of mine! If
I had been at home, no harm would have come to Viola; but what am I to
do now that the sentence----"
"After all, what does it signify?" said the hussar, stroking his
moustache.
"You know what's in the letter. They ask me to save him; and what can I
do now that he's condemned?"
"If your worship will do a kind thing for the love of Miss Etelka--I beg
your pardon--for the love of my young master; and if your worship will
save Viola----"
"'If!' and 'will!' I'd give my life if I _could_ do it."
"Oh, then we need not care for such a bit of a sentence. Only think,
sir, what should we do for ropes if every man were hanged whom they
condemn in Hungary?"
"Perhaps you are not aware," said Völgyeshy, "that there's a
court-martial in the case. In a common court----"
"Of course, of course!" said Janosh; and, turning to young Kishlaki, he
whispered, "Do not let us mention these things before strangers."
"Don't mind Mr. Völgyeshy," said Kalman. "He knows all about it; and
he'd help us if he could."
"So I would," said the lawyer.
"That alters the matter entirely. The worshipful gentlemen do not like
us to put our fingers into their pie; and when they wish to hang a
fellow, they are apt to be unreasonable if he escapes. They are fond of
being hard upon the like of me."
"But what is it you mean to do?"
"I myself hardly know. I want to reconnoitre the place; but shoot me if
I don't find a means to set him free! They won't hang him to-night;
there's plenty of time to think about it. Mr. Kalman is at home here;
that's half the battle. Your cellars are full of wine; we've lots of
money, keys, ropes, and a horse. Hej!" added he, laughing; "did you ever
hear of the adventures of the famous Baron Trenck?"
"Thanks, old Janosh!" cried Kalman, shaking his hand; "do as you please
in the house! manage it all your own way, and throw the blame upon me!"
"Very well! very well indeed!" said the hussar, twisting his moustache;
"old Janosh isn't half so dull as people fancy, and, _terrem tette_! an
old soldier has had capital schooling in these things. But you must go
to dinner, for unless you do, they'll fancy we are mustering our
forces, as indeed we are. I'll reconnoitre the place."
"I'm your sworn friend to the end of my life!" said Kalman, as he left
the room with Völgyeshy.
"Don't mention it," muttered the old soldier; "a man who has served the
emperor so many years, and who has fought in the battle of Aspern, and
in France, such a man wants none of your gratitude, especially since I
have my own master. But I dare say Master Kalman would like to oblige
our young lady. Very well, I'm agreeable; that's all I can say. He's a
fine young fellow, and almost as good a horseman as my own master, which
is saying a great deal, for he had the benefit of _my_ schooling."
Muttering these and other things, Janosh marched to the steward's house,
where he met Peti the gipsy.
We need hardly say that Lady Kishlaki's dinner was as dull and gloomy as
any dinner can be. Völgyeshy and Kalman were thoughtful and silent. The
lady of the house did not press her guests to eat; nor did she ask them
to excuse the bad cooking, although almost every dish stood in need of a
thousand apologies. Mr. Kishlaki, who remarked his wife's altered
manner, and who justly interpreted the looks of reproach which she cast
upon him, sat staring at his plate with so anxious and careworn a face,
that Völgyeshy would gladly have spoken to him but for the presence of
Messrs. Skinner and Kenihazy, who, to do them justice, strove hard but
unsuccessfully to amuse their host. Baron Shoskuty's compliments, and
Mr. Zatonyi's anecdotes, were equally lost on their gloomy and
dispirited audience; and everybody felt relieved when the dinner was
over. Kalman, in particular, could hardly bridle his impatience; the
moment Lady Kishlaki rose from the table, he left the room with
Völgyeshy.
"How are we getting on, Janosh?" asked Kalman, when he saw the old
hussar, who was smoking his pipe in the hall.
"Pretty well, sir; let us go to your room, and I'll tell you all about
it."
"Do you think we can possibly save him?" asked Kalman, as they entered
his apartments.
"Why not?" said Janosh. "The commander of the fortress has it all his
own way. Any man whom he will allow to get out, why that man gets
out--that's all."
"But how will you do it?"
"The curate of Tissaret is here," whispered the hussar. "When he saw
that Viola was bound to a post, and in the open air, and in November,
too, with but an armful of straw for him to lie on; and his poor wife
and children shivering and shaking by his side;--and I tell you, sir,
fine children they are, as fine as any you can see; but, as I told you,
when the curate saw them, he said it was a shame, and he would not stand
it, and the law was that the prisoner ought not to be kept in the open
air at this time of the year. Says I to myself, when the curate
sermonised them, says I, 'That's as lucky a thing as can be!' for, to
tell you the truth, I had my doubts about our getting him off, if they'd
keep him in that cursed shed. The great donkeys have put four lamps
round him, seeing they wish to watch every one of his movements. But, of
course, I didn't say a word about it. I only told the steward that there
was no harm in what the curate said; for, after all, it is a safe thing
to have your prisoner locked up and provided for."
"But what for?" asked Kalman, impatiently; "of what use can it be to us,
if they lock Viola up?"
"Locking your prisoner up is a capital thing in its way," said the
hussar. "When your prisoner is by himself, where no one sees him, he can
do as he likes, and there are few things he will not do. But if he is
watched by half-a-dozen men and more, let him be ever so stout a man, it
cows him down. At the least of his motions, he's got a dozen hands upon
him, and he's laughed at to boot. But if they put Viola into the
chaff-loft, which I understand they think of doing, they may whistle for
him, that's all."
"But how the deuce will you do it?" asked Völgyeshy, whose temper was
not proof to the old soldier's circumstantial explanations.
"In this way, your worship," whispered the old hussar, in a still lower
voice: "the chaff-loft is next to the steward's house, and there's a
door between the granary and the steward's loft, isn't there?"
"Yes, so there is. What next?" said Kalman.
"As I said before, there's a door from the granary to the steward's
loft--(I'd not like that door, at all, if the corn were mine)--but
that's neither here nor there; it serves the steward's purpose, I dare
say, and at present it serves ours."
"Go on, man!" cried Kalman.
"The key of the granary," continued the hussar, "is in your lady
mother's hands, and it's you who'll get it for us?"
"Of course."
"That's all we want. To-night, when they are all asleep, we go to the
granary, walk through the door to the steward's loft, and from thence to
the chaff-loft. That loft is, as it were, glued to the house; the
wood-work consists of thin planks. Peti, the gipsy, knows it to a
nicety. We remove a couple of planks, put a ladder through the hole, and
Viola gets up by it, and out by the door of the granary. Once in the
open air, he's saved. Peti is gone after your worship's Gulyash, who is
to send his horse. I tell you, sir, they may whistle for him when Viola
has once got a horse between his legs!"
Kalman clapped his hands with joy, and Völgyeshy himself commended the
arrangement and its details; but he remarked that there were a thousand
chances for or against its execution.
"Never mind," said Janosh; "if you put Viola into that loft, and the key
of the granary into my hands, I'll be hanged if we don't do them!
There's no window to the loft, consequently no one can look in from
without; and when they're once asleep, we have it all to ourselves."
"But what will you do with the sentinels? And besides, there's the
steward close by you. He's likely to hear the noise, and to alarm the
house."
"I'll pocket the sentinels," said the hussar, contemptuously. "The
inspector is a-bed with his wounds; if you make the justice and that
fellow Kenihazy drunk, to prevent them from going their rounds,--and
nothing is more easy than to make _them_ drunk,--and if you do your duty
as a landlord to the sentinels, and make them drunk, too, I do not care
for the steward's noise. But I don't think he'll make any. When he's
once in bed, it's no small matter will get him out of it. The key is the
great thing, and Viola must be put into the chaff-loft."
"If that's all," cried Kalman, "you need not care!" and, accompanied by
Völgyeshy, he returned to the dining-room, where they found Vandory, the
curate of Tissaret, who had informed the court of his request, and who
was just in the act of replying with great warmth to the objections of
Zatonyi and Baron Shoskuty. The assessor appealed to the ancient custom
of keeping culprits under the sentence of a court-martial in the open
air; Baron Shoskuty protested that it was wrong to abuse Lady Kishlaki's
hospitality for the benefit of so arrant a knave as Viola undoubtedly
was; but the curate's request was so energetically supported by Kalman's
father and mother, that the interference of the two young men seemed
likely to do more harm than good.
"I do not, indeed, see the necessity of placing the prisoner in a room,"
remarked Mr. Catspaw, very politely. "The provision in the articles is
confined to the winter months, and I dare say that Viola ought, by this
time, to be accustomed to the night air."
"Never mind his catching a cold in his throat," cried Mr. Skinner;
"to-morrow morning we'll give him a choke."
"None of your jokes, sir," said Mr. Catspaw, who remarked the
unfavourable impression which the justice's words made on the company.
"This is no laughing matter," continued he, with a deep sigh. "As I
said, I do not indeed think it necessary, and I protest it is not even
legal to give the prisoner houseroom: but if it can relieve our dear
hostess's tender mind, I will not oppose Mr. Vandory's request, provided
always that the place be safe, that the windows have bars, and the door
bolts and locks, and that sentinels are duly placed before it."
"If your worships please," said the steward, who had followed Vandory
into the room; "I know of a place with no window at all."
"Ay, the cellar!" said Zatonyi. "Yes, that's right. It struck me from
the first that was the place."
"No! not by any means!" protested the steward; "there's lots of wine in
the cellar, my master's property, and entrusted to my care. Nobody is
imprisoned in the cellar, if I have my will! But there's the chaff-loft
at your service; it has a lock and a key, and no window; and if you put
a sentinel before the door, the prisoner is as safe as any state
prisoner at Munkatsh."
Vandory, and especially Lady Kishlaki, resisted this proposal because no
fire could be lighted in the place; but on Kalman's protesting that
nothing could be more futile than this objection, the resolution was
carried by acclamation, and Messrs. Skinner, Kenihazy, and Catspaw
accompanied Vandory to the steward's house, for the purpose of
inspecting the place, and witnessing the removal of the prisoner.
Völgyeshy and Kalman followed at a distance.
"Be careful!" said the lawyer. "Did you remark Catspaw's stare, when you
told them Viola could do without a fire?"
"Yes, I did. I see it's no good to be too clever. But I'll make up for
it. I'll object to the room--I'll----"
"Worse and worse!" said Völgyeshy. "Leave them alone, and believe me, if
that loft is the worst place in the house, they'll put him there, and
nowhere else."
The truth of Völgyeshy's words was borne out by the event. Mr. Catspaw
indeed made some curious inquiries about the solidity of the building,
but he was quickly put down by the steward, who replied with great
dignity, that Mr. Kishlaki, his master, was not in the habit of
constructing his houses of mud. The attorney, thus rebuked, turned away,
and the place was forthwith furnished with a table, a stool, and a heap
of straw.
Mr. Kishlaki, pretending to suffer from a headache, retired to his room,
whither his wife followed him. Zatonyi and the Baron walked in the
drawing-room, and laughed at the ridiculous sentimentality of their
host, at Vandory's still more ridiculous philanthropy, and at
Völgyeshy's impertinence. They interrupted this charitable conversation
at times with deep sighs, and longing looks at the card-tables; for they
waited for Messrs. Catspaw and Skinner.
While his guests were thus employed, Mr. Kishlaki sat in his room,
leaning his head in his hand, and so entirely given up to thought, that
his pipe went out without his being aware of it.
"Treshi, my soul!" said he at length, turning to his wife, "Treshi, I am
a wretch!"
Lady Kishlaki sighed, and her husband went on.
"I know, Treshi, you will not love me as you used to do, and it's the
same with Kalman. When you see me you'll think: he might have saved the
poor fellow's life, and he wouldn't do it!"
Lady Kishlaki said a few words of comfort; but the old man shook his
head, and continued:
"No, Treshi! that man's life was in my hands, and I killed him. His
blood is on my soul."
The good woman's heart yielded to the sincerity of his sorrow, and
instead of reproaching him, as she intended, she sought to comfort him,
by protesting that the responsibility, if there was any, lay equally
with the other judges. "Besides," added she, "how frequently have you
not sat in a common court, without feeling remorse and sorrow!"
"Oh, that's a very different thing," replied Kishlaki. "In a common
court a man is allowed to vote after his conscience, and the sentence is
found by a majority. There is no idea of the life of the prisoner
depending upon a single vote; the sentence is sent to the upper court,
and to the king's government, and if it is executed, I need not reproach
myself with being the _sole_ cause of the prisoner's death. But to think
that nothing was wanted to-day but my single simple word of 'non
content;' that I did not say the word, and that it was I who killed that
fellow,--goodness gracious! it breaks my heart. I hate myself, and I
feel that others cannot love me."
"But if that is your view of the case," said his wife, with tears in her
eyes; "why, for God's sake, did you vote as you did?"
"Why, indeed?" cried Kishlaki, pacing the room in a state of great
excitement; "because I am a poor weak fool; because I was afraid of them
when they told me my conduct was ridiculous; because Mr. Catspaw, and
the whole lot of them, called out, that the Retys would never forgive me
if Viola's depositions were taken down; and because I thought of
Kalman's love to Etelka. And Völgyeshy walked away and left me by
myself----"
"I cannot think that the Retys should be guilty of such infamous
conduct----"
"Nor I! I am sure it's a trick of Catspaw's; and it tricks me out of my
reputation, name, and peace of mind."
"Do not say so!" cried Lady Kishlaki. "Who will dare to attack your
reputation?"
"Who? Everybody! Perhaps Völgyeshy is right. On consideration, it
strikes me that the protocol was irregular; and if so, who's to be
blamed for it? I, the president of the court. But I wouldn't mind that!
I would not mind it in the least, if they called me a dunce, and a
cullion, and a zany, and what not--but to step from my door, and to see
the wretched man hanging on my own ground, whom I might have saved, and
to think of his wife and his children, how they clasped my knees, and
begged for his life--oh, I'm undone!"
"Nonsense!" said Kalman, who entered the room at that moment. "It's in
your power to release Viola."
"Impossible!" cried Kishlaki; "and still the subject is too serious for
jokes. But it's impossible."
"There's a legal impossibility, if you like," replied the young man;
"for in law, I take it, it is thought impossible for two witnesses to
tell lies, though one witness may, and for a judge to be a party against
the culprit. But, thank heaven! there are other expedients."