"It is Never Too Late to Mend, a Matter-of-Fact Romance,"
published in 1856, is, like "Hard Cash," a story with a
purpose, the object in this instance being to illustrate the
abuses of prison discipline in England and Australia. Many of
the passages describing Australian life are exceptionally
vivid and imaginative, and exhibit Charles Reade, if not in
the front rank of novelists of his day, at least occupying a
high position.
_I.--In Berkshire_
George Fielding, assisted by his brother William, tilled The Grove--as
nasty a little farm as any in Berkshire. It was four hundred acres, all
arable, and most of it poor, sour land. A bad bargain, and the farmer
being sober, intelligent, proud, sensitive, and unlucky, is the more to
be pitied.
Susanna Merton was beautiful and good; George Fielding and she were
acknowledged lovers, but latterly old Merton had seemed cool whenever
his daughter mentioned the young man's name.
William Fielding, George's brother, was in love with his brother's
sweetheart, but he never looked at her except by stealth; he knew he had
no business to love her.
While George Fielding had been going steadily down-hill, till even the
bank declined to give him credit, Mr. Meadows, who had been a carter,
was, at forty years of age, a rich corn-factor and land surveyor.
This John Meadows was not a common man. He had a cool head, and an iron
will; and he had the soul of business--method.
Meadows was generally respected; by none more than by old Merton. In
fact, it seemed to Merton that John Meadows would make a better
son-in-law than George Fielding.
The day came when a distress was issued against Fielding's farm for the
rent, and as it happened on that very day Susan and her father had come
to dinner at The Grove. Old Merton, knowing how things stood, spoke his
mind to George.
"You are too much of a man, I hope, to eat a woman's bread; and if you
are not, I am man enough to keep the girl from it. If Susan marries you
she will have to keep you instead of you her."
"Is this from Susanna, as well as you?" said George, with a trembling
lip.
"Susan is an obedient daughter. What I say she'll stand to."
This was blow number two for George Fielding. The third stroke on that
day was the arrest of Mr. Robinson who had been staying at The Grove as
a lodger. Mr. Robinson dressed well, too well, perhaps, but somehow the
rustics wouldn't accept him for a gentleman. George had taken a great
liking to his lodger, and Mr. Robinson was equally sincere in his
friendship for Fielding. And now it turned out that the fools who had
disparaged Robinson were right, and he, George Fielding, wrong. Before
his eyes, and amidst the grins of a score of gaping yokels, Thomas
Robinson, alias Scott, a professional thief, was handcuffed and carried
off to the county gaol.
This finished George. An invitation to go out to Australia with the
younger son of a neighbouring landowner, hitherto disregarded, was now
accepted.
Old Merton approved the decision, and when his daughter implored him not
to let George go, he replied plainly, to both of them:
"Susan! Mayhap the lad thinks me his enemy, but I'm not. My daughter
shall not marry a bankrupt farmer, but you bring home a thousand
pounds--just one thousand pounds--to show me you are not a fool, and you
shall have my daughter, and she shall have my blessing." And the old
farmer gave George his hand upon it.
Meadows exulted, thinking, with George in Australia, he could secure his
own way with Susan and old Merton. He had forgotten one man; old Isaac
Levi, of whom he had made an implacable enemy, by insisting on his
turning out of the house where he lived. Meadows, having bought the
house, intended to live in it himself, and treated the prayers and
entreaties of the old Jew with contempt. Only the interference of George
Fielding, on the day of his own ruin, had saved old Levi from personal
violence at the hands of Meadows; and so while George was sinking under
the blows of fortune, he had made a friend in Isaac Levi.
Before George sailed William promised that he would think no more of
Susan as a sweetheart.
"She's my sister from this hour--no more, no less," he declared. "And
may the red blight fall on my arm and my heart if I or any man takes her
from you--any man! Sooner than a hundred men should take her from you
while I am here I'd die at their feet a hundred times."
William kept his eye on Meadows, but Meadows soon had William in his
clutches. For John Meadows lent money upon ricks, waggons, leases, and
such things, to farmers in difficulties, employing as his agent in these
transactions a middle-aged, disreputable lawyer named Peter Crawley--a
cunning fool and a sot.
First William Fielding, and then old Merton were heavy debtors to Peter
Crawley, that is to John Meadows; for Merton, a solid enough farmer, was
beguiled into rash and ruinous speculations by a friend of Meadows'.
And now George Fielding is gone to Australia to make a thousand pounds
by farming and cattle-feeding, so that he may marry Susan. Susan, at
home, is often pensive and always anxious, but not despondent. Meadows
is falling deeper and deeper in love, but keeping it jealously secret;
on his guard against Isaac Levi, and on his guard against William;
hoping everything from time and accidents, and from George's incapacity
to make money; and watching with keen eye and working with subtle
threads to draw everybody into his power who could assist or thwart him
in his object. William Fielding is going down the hill, Meadows was
mounting; getting the better of his passion, and gradually substituting
a brother-in-law's regard. Within eighteen months William was happily
married to another farmer's daughter in the neighbourhood.
_II.--In Gaol_
Under Governor Hawes the separate and silent system flourished in ----
gaol, and the local justices entirely approved the system. In the view
of Hawes and the justices severe punishment of mind and body was the
essential object of a gaol.
Now Tom Robinson had not been in gaol these four years, and though he
had heard much of the changes in gaol treatment, they had not yet come
home to him. When, therefore, instead of being greeted with the
boisterous acclamations of other spirits as bad as himself, he was
ushered into a cell white as driven snow, and his duties explained to
him, the heavy penalty he was under should a speck of dirt ever be
discovered on the walls or floor, Thomas looked blank and had a
misgiving. To his dismay he found that the silent cellular system was
even carried out in the chapel, where each prisoner had a sort of
sentry-box to himself, and that the hour's promenade for exercise
conversation was equally impossible.
The turnkeys were surly and forbidding, and the hours dragged wearily to
this active-minded prisoner. Robinson was driven to appeal to the
governor to put him on hard labour.
"We'll choose the time for that," said the governor, with a knowing
smile. "You'll be worse before you are better, my man."
On the tenth day Robinson tried to exchange a word with a prisoner in
chapel, and for this he was taken to the black-hole.
Now Robinson was a man of rare capacity, full of talent and the courage
and energy that show in action, but not rich in the fortitude that bears
much. When they took him out of the black-hole, after six hours'
confinement, he was observed to be white as a sheet, and to tremble
violently all over.
The day after this the doctor reported No. 19--this was Robinson--to be
sinking, and on this Hawes put him to garden work. The man's life and
reason were saved by that little bit of labour. Then for a day or two he
was employed in washing the corridors, and in making brushes; after
that, came the crank. This was a machine consisting of a vertical post
with an iron handle, and it was worked as villagers draw a bucket up
from a well.
"Eighteen hundred revolutions per hour, and two hours before dinner,"
was the order given to No. 19, a touch of fever a few days later made it
impossible for him to get through his task, and Hawes brutally had the
unfortunate prisoner placed in the jacket.
This horrible form of torture consisted of a stout waistcoat, with a
rough-edged collar. Robinson knew resistance was useless. He was jammed
in the jacket, pinned tight to the collar, and throttled in the collar.
Weakened by fever, he succumbed sooner than the torturers had calculated
upon, and a few minutes later No. 19 would have been a corpse if he had
not been released.
Water was dashed over him, and then Hawes shouted: "I never was beat by
a prisoner yet, and I never will be," and had him put back again. Every
time he fainted, water was thrown over him.
The plan pursued by the governor with Robinson was to keep him low so
that he failed at the crank, and then torture him in the jacket. "He
will break out before long," said Hawes to himself, "and then--"
Robinson saw the game, and a deep hatred of his enemy fought on the side
of his prudence. This bitter struggle in the thief's heart harmed his
soul more than all the years of burglary and petty larceny. All the
vices of the old gaol system were nothing compared with the diabolical
effect of solitude on a heart smarting with daily wrongs. He made a
desperate appeal to the chaplain: "We have no friends here, sir, but
you--not one. Have pity on us."
But Mr. Jones, the chaplain, was a weak man--unequal to the task of
standing between the prisoners and their torturers, the justices and
governor, and he held out no hope to No. 19.
Robinson now became a far worse man. He hated the human race, and said
to himself, "From this hour I speak no more to any of these beasts!"
It was then that Mr. Jones, unequal to his task, resigned his office,
and a new chaplain, the Rev. Francis Eden, took his place.
Mr. Eden, having ascertained the effects of both the black-hole and the
punishment jacket, at once began a strenuous battle for the prisoners,
and in the end triumphed handsomely. Hawes, in the face of an official
inquiry by the Home Office, threw up the governorship, and a more humane
regime was instituted in the gaol.
For a time Robinson resisted all the advances of the new chaplain, but
when Mr. Eden came to him in the black-hole, and cheered him through the
darkness and solitude by talking to him, not only was Robinson's sanity
preserved,--the man's heart was touched, and from that hour he was sworn
to honesty.
Then came the time for Robinson to be transported to Australia, with the
promise of an early ticket-of-leave. Mr. Eden, anxious for the man's
future, thought of George Fielding. Taking Sunday duty in the parish
where Merton and his neighbours lived, Mr. Eden had become acquainted
with Susan, and had learnt her story. He now wrote to her: "Thomas
Robinson goes to Australia next week; he will get a ticket-of-leave
almost immediately. I have thought of George Fielding, and am sure that
poor Robinson with such a companion would be as honest as the day, and a
useful friend, for he is full of resources. So I want you to do a
Christian act, and write a note to Mr. Fielding, and let this poor
fellow take it to him."
Susan's letter came by return of post. Robinson sailed in the convict
ship for Australia, and in due time was released. He found George
Fielding at Bathurst recovering from fever, and the letter from Susan,
and his own readiness to help, soon revived the old good feeling between
the two men.
_III.--Between Australia and Berkshire_
Meadows, having the postmaster at Farnborough under his thumb, read all
George's letters to Susan before they were delivered. As long as George
was in difficulties--and the thousand pounds seemed as far off as ever
until Tom Robinson struck gold and shared the luck with his partner--the
letters gave Meadows no uneasiness. With the discovery of gold he
decided Susan must hear no more from her lover, and that Fielding must
not return. By this time, old Merton was heavily in debt to Meadows, and
saw escape from bankruptcy only in Meadows becoming his son-in-law,
while Susan was kindly disposed to Meadows because he said nothing of
love, and was willing to talk about Australia.
Meadows confided his plan to Peter Crawley.
"My plan has two hands; I must be one, you the other. _I_ work thus: I
stop all letters from him to her. Presently comes a letter from
Australia telling how George Fielding has made his fortune and married a
girl out there. She won't believe it at first, perhaps, but when she
gets no more letters from him she will. Of course, I shall never mention
his name, but I make one of my tools hang gaol over old Merton. Susan
thinks George married. I strike upon her pique and her father's
distress. I ask him for his daughter; offer to pay my father-in-law's
debts and start him afresh. Susan likes me already. She will say no,
perhaps, three or four times, but the fifth she will say yes. Crawley,
the day that John and Susan Meadows walk out of church man and wife I
put a thousand pounds into your hand and set you up in any business you
like; in any honest business, that is. But suppose, Crawley, while I am
working, this George Fielding were to come home with money in both
pockets?"
"He would kick it all down in a moment."
"Crawley, George Fielding must not come back this year with a thousand
pounds. That paper will prevent him; it is a paper of instructions. My
very brains lie in that paper; put it in your pocket. You are going a
journey, and you will draw on me for one hundred pounds per month."
"When am I to start, sir? Where am I to go to?"
"To-morrow morning. To Australia."
A dead silence on both sides followed these words, as the two colourless
faces looked into one another's eyes across the table.
To Australia Peter Crawley went, and with half-a-dozen of the most
villainous ruffians on earth in his pay, it seemed impossible for
Fielding and Robinson to escape. But here the ex-thief's alertness came
to George Fielding's aid, and the two men managed to get the better of
all the robbers and assassins who attacked their tent. Robinson, in
fact, not only saved his own and his partner's lives, by common consent
he was elected captain at the gold-diggings, and by his authority some
sort of law and order were established throughout the camp, and all
thefts were heavily punished.
The finding of a large nugget by Robinson ended gold-digging for these
two men. The nugget was taken to Sydney and fetched £3,800, and when
Crawley, who had pursued them from the camp, reached the city, he found
they had already sailed for England.
George Fielding went to Australia to make £1,000, and by industry,
sobriety, and cattle, he did not make £1,000; but, with the help of a
converted thief, he did by gold-digging, industry, and sobriety, make
several thousand pounds, and take them safe away home, spite of many
wicked devices and wicked men.
Mr. Meadows flung out Peter Crawley, his left hand, into Australia to
keep George from coming back to Susan with £1,000, and his left hand
failed, and failed completely. But his right hand?
_IV.--George Fielding's Return_
One market day a whisper passed through Farnborough that George Fielding
had met with wonderful luck. That he had made his fortune by gold, and
was going to marry a young lady out in Australia. Farmer Merton brought
the whisper home; Meadows was sure he would.
When eight months had elapsed without a letter from George, Susan could
no longer deceive herself with hopes. George was either false to her or
dead. She said as much to Meadows, and this inspired him with the idea
of setting about a report that George was dead. Susan's mind had long
been prepared for bitter tidings, and when old Merton tried in a clumsy
way to prepare her for sad news, she fixed her eyes on him, and said,
"Father, George is dead."
Old Merton hung his head, and made no reply. Susan crept from the room
pale as ashes.
Then Meadows contradicted this report, and showed a letter he had
received, saying that "George Fielding was married yesterday to one of
the prettiest girls in Sydney. I met them walking in the street to-day."
"He is alive!" Susan said. "Thank God he is alive. I will not cry for
another woman's husband."
It was not pique that made Susan accept John Meadows, it was to save her
father from ruin. She said plainly that she could not pretend affection,
and that it was only her indifference that made her consent. She tried
to give happiness, and to avoid giving pain, but her heart of hearts was
inaccessible.
The return of Crawley with the news that Fielding and Robinson were at
hand, drove Meadows to persuade Susan to hasten the marriage. The
following Monday had been fixed, Susan agreed to let it take place the
preceding Thursday.
The next thing was Meadows himself recognised Fielding and Robinson;
they were staying the night at the King's Head, in Farnborough, where
Meadows was taking a glass of ale. He promptly decided on his game. The
travellers called for hot brandy-and-water, and while the waiter left it
for a moment, Meadows dropped the contents of a certain white paper into
the liquor. In the dead of night he left his bedroom, and crept to the
room where Robinson slept. The drug had done its work. Meadows found
£7,000 under the sleeper's pillow, and carried the notes off undetected.
He returned in the early morning to his own house, he explained to
Crawley why he had done this. "Don't you see that I have made George
Fielding penniless, and that now old Merton won't let him have his
daughter. He can't marry her at all now, and when the writ is served on
old Merton he will be as strong as fire for me and against George
Fielding. I am not a thief, and the day I marry Susan £7,000 will be put
in George Fielding's hand; he won't know by whom, but you and I shall
know. I am a sinner, but not a villain."
He lit a candle and placed it in the grate. "Come now," Meadows said
coolly, "burn them; then they will tell no tale."
Crawley shrieked: "No, no, sir! Don't think of it, give them to me, and
in twelve hours I will be in France!"
Meadows hesitated, and then agreed to give him the notes on condition
Crawley went to France that very day.
Crawley kept faith. He hugged his treasure to his bosom, and sat down at
the railway-station waiting for the train.
Old Isaac Levi was there, and a police officer whom Crawley knew.
"You have £7,000 about you, Mr. Crawley," whispered Isaac in his ear.
"Stolen! Give it up to the police officer. Stolen by him, received by
you. Give it up unless you prefer a public search. Here is a search
warrant from the mayor."
"I won't without Mr. Meadows' authority. Send for Mr. Meadows, if you
dare!"
"Well, we will take you to Mr. Meadows. Keep the money till you see him,
but we must secure you. Let us go in a carriage."
Meantime, Mr. Meadows had gone to the bank, and had made over the sum of
£7,000 to George Fielding and Thomas Robinson. Then he hastened to the
church, for it was his wedding-day, and every delay was dangerous.
The parson was late, and while Meadows stood waiting outside the church,
along with old Merton and his daughter, and a crowd of neighbours,
George Fielding and Robinson came up.
"Susan!" cried a well-known voice behind her. The bride turned, and
forgot everything at the sight of George's handsome, honest face, and
threw herself into his arms. George kissed the bride.
"What have you done?" cried Susan. "You are false to me! You never wrote
me a letter for twelve months, and you are married to a lady in
Bathurst! Oh, George!"
"Who has been telling her I have ever had a thought of any girl but
her?" said George sternly. "Here is the ring you gave me, Susan."
"Miss Merton and I are to be married to-day," said Meadows.
"I was there before you, Mr. Meadows, but I won't stand upon that, and I
wouldn't give a snap of the finger to have her if her will was toward
another. So please yourself, Susan, my lass; only this must end. Choose
between John Meadows and George Fielding."
Susan looked up in astonishment.
"What choice can there be? The moment I saw your face I forgot there was
a John Meadows in the world!" With that she bolted off home.
George turned to old Merton.
"I crossed the seas on the faith of your promise, and I have brought
back the thousand pounds."
"John," said old Merton, "I must stand to my word, and I will--it is
justice."
It was then that Robinson, producing his pocket-book, found they had
been robbed. Despair fell upon George. But Meadows was promptly hindered
from pursuing any advantage by the arrival of Isaac Levi, with a
magistrate and police officers. Presently Crawley was produced. The game
was up. Levi had overheard all that had passed between Meadows and
Crawley. Crawley turned upon Meadows, and the magistrate had no choice
but to commit Meadows for trial, while the notes were returned to their
rightful owners.
A month later George and Susan were married, and Farmer Merton's debts
paid.
Robinson wisely went back to Australia, and more wisely married an
honest serving-maid. He is respected for his intelligence and good
nature, and is industrious and punctilious in business.
When the assizes came on neither Robinson nor George was present to
prosecute, and their recognisances were forfeited. Meadows and Crawley
were released, and Meadows went to Australia. His mother, who hated her
son's sins, left her native land at seventy to comfort him and win him
to repentance.
"Even now his heart is softening," she said to herself. "Three times he
has said to me 'That George Fielding is a better man than I am.' He will
repent; he bears no malice, he blames none but himself. It is never too
late to mend."
* * * * *