ON our way back I received from
the runner some explanation of
his apparently unaccountable
proceedings in reference to myself.
To begin at the beginning,
it turned out that the first
act of the officers, on their
release from the workroom in
the red-brick house, was to institute
a careful search for papers in
the doctor's study and bedroom.
Among the other documents that
he had not had time to destroy,
was a letter to him from Alicia,
which they took from one of the
pockets of his dressing-gown.
Finding, from the report of the
men who had followed the gig,
that he had distanced all pursuit,
and having therefore no direct
clew to his whereabout, they
had been obliged to hunt after
him in various directions, on
pure speculation. Alicia's letter
to her father gave the address
of the house at Crickgelly; and
to this the runner repaired,
on the chance of intercepting
or discovering any communications
which the doctor might make to
his daughter, Screw being taken
with the officer to identify
the young lady. After leaving
the last coach, they posted to
within a mile of Crickgelly,
and then walked into the village,
in order to excite no special
attention, should the doctor
be lurking in the neighborhood.
The runner had tried ineffectually
to gain admission as a visitor
at Zion Place. After having the
door shut on him, he and Screw
had watched the house and village,
and had seen me approach Number
Two. Their suspicions were directly
excited.
Thus far, Screw had not recognized,
nor even observed me; but he
immediately identified me by
my voice, while I was parleying
with the stupid servant at the
door. The runner, hearing who
I was, reasonably enough concluded
that I must be the recognized
medium of communication between
the doctor and his daughter,
especially when he found that
I was admitted, instantly after
calling, past the servant, to
some one inside the house.
Leaving Screw on the watch,
he went to the inn, discovered
himself privately to the landlord,
and made sure (in more ways than
one, as I conjectured) of knowing
when, and in what direction,
I should leave Crickgelly. On
finding that I was to leave it
the next morning, with Alicia
and Mrs. Baggs, he immediately
suspected that I was charged
with the duty of taking the daughter
to, or near, the place chosen
for the father's retreat; and
had therefore abstained from
interfering prematurely with
my movements. Knowing whither
we were bound in the cart, he
had ridden after us, well out
of sight, with his countryman's
disguise ready for use in the
saddle-bags-- Screw, in case
of any mistakes or mystifications,
being left behind on the watch
at Crickgelly.
The possibility that I might
be running away with Alicia had
suggested itself to him; but
he dismissed it as improbable,
first when he saw that Mrs. Baggs
accompanied us, and again, when,
on nearing Scotland, he found
that we did not take the road
to Gretna Green. He acknowledged,
in conclusion, that he should
have followed us to Edinburgh,
or even to the Continent itself,
on the chance of our leading
him to the doctor's retreat,
but for the servant girl at the
inn, who had listened outside
the door while our brief marriage
ceremony was proceeding, and
from whom, with great trouble
and delay, he had extracted all
the information he required.
A further loss of half an hour's
time had occurred while he was
getting the necessary help to
assist him, in the event of my
resisting, or trying to give
him the slip, in making me a
prisoner. These small facts accounted
for the hour's respite we had
enjoyed at the inn, and terminated
the runner's narrative of his
own proceedings.
On arriving at our destination
I was, of course, immediately
taken to the jail.
Alicia, by my advice, engaged
a modest lodging in a suburb
of Barkingham. In the days of
the red-brick house, she had
seldom been seen in the town,
and she was not at all known
by sight in the suburb. We arranged
that she was to visit me as often
as the authorities would let
her. She had no companion, and
wanted none. Mrs. Baggs, who
had never forgiven the rebuke
administered to her at the starting-point
of our journey, left us at the
close of it. Her leave-taking
was dignified and pathetic. She
kindly informed Alicia that she
wished her well, though she could
not conscientiously look upon
her as a lawful married woman;
and she begged me (in case I
got off), the next time I met
with a respectable person who
was kind to me, to profit by
remembering my past errors, and
to treat my next benefactress
with more confidence than I had
treated her.
My first business in the prison
was to write to Mr. Batterbury.
I had a magnificent ease to
present to him, this time. Although
I believed myself, and had succeeded
in persuading Alicia, that I
was sure of being recommended
to mercy, it was not the less
the fact that I was charged with
an offense still punishable by
death, in the then barbarous
state of the law. I delicately
stated just enough of my case
to make one thing clear to the
mind of Mr. Batterbury. My affectionate
sister's interest in the contingent
reversion was now ( unless Lady
Malkinshaw perversely and suddenly
expired) actually threatened
by the Gallows!
While calmly awaiting the answer,
I was by no means without subjects
to occupy my attention when Alicia
was not at the prison. There
was my fellow-workman--Mill--(the
first member of our society betrayed
by Screw) to compare notes with;
and there was a certain prisoner
who had been transported, and
who had some very important and
interesting particulars to communicate,
relative to life and its chances
in our felon-settlements at the
Antipodes. I talked a great deal
with this man; for I felt that
his experience might be of the
greatest possible benefit to
me.
Mr. Batterbury's answer was
speedy, short, and punctual.
I had shattered his nervous system
forever, he wrote, but had only
stimulated his devotion to my
family, and his Christian readiness
to look pityingly on my transgressions.
He had engaged the leader of
the circuit to defend me; and
he would have come to see me,
but for Mrs. Batterbury; who
had implored him not to expose
himself to agitation. Of Lady
Malkinshaw the letter said nothing;
but I afterward discovered that
she was then at Cheltenham, drinking
the waters and playing whist
in the rudest health and spirits.
It is a bold thing to say,
but nothing will ever persuade
me that Society has not a sneaking
kindness for a Rogue.
For example,
my father never had half the
attention shown
to him in his own house, which
was shown to me in my prison.
I have seen High Sheriffs in
the great world, whom my father
went to see, give him two fingers--the
High Sheriff of Barkinghamshire
came to see me, and shook hands
cordially. Nobody ever wanted
my father's autograph--dozens
of people asked for mine. Nobody
ever put my father's portrait
in the frontispiece of a magazine,
or described his personal appearance
and manners with anxious elaboration,
in the large type of a great
newspaper--I enjoyed both those
honors. Three official individuals
politely begged me to be sure
and make complaints if my position
was not perfectly comfortable.
No official individual ever troubled
his head whether my father was
comfortable or not. When the
day of my trial came, the court
was thronged by my lovely countrywomen,
who stood up panting in the crowd
and crushing their beautiful
dresses, rather than miss the
pleasure of seeing the dear Rogue
in the dock. When my father once
stood on the lecturer's rostrum,
and delivered his excellent discourse,
called "Medical Hints to Maids
and Mothers on Tight Lacing and
Teething," the benches were left
empty by the ungrateful women
of England, who were not in the
slightest degree anxious to feast
their eyes on the sight of a
learned adviser and respectable
man. If these facts led to one
inevitable conclusion, it is
not my fault. We Rogues are the
spoiled children of Society.
We may not be openly acknowledged
as Pets, but we all know, by
pleasant experience, that we
are treated like them.
The trial was deeply affecting.
My defense --or rather my barrister's--was
the simple truth. It was impossible
to overthrow the facts against
us; so we honestly owned that
I got into the scrape through
love for Alicia. My counsel turned
this to the best possible sentimental
account. He cried; the ladies
cried; the jury cried; the judge
cried; and Mr. Batterbury, who
had desperately come to see the
trial, and know the worst, sobbed
with such prominent vehemence,
that I believe him, to this day,
to have greatly influenced the
verdict. I was strongly recommended
to mercy and got off with fourteen
years' transportation. The unfortunate
Mill, who was tried after me,
with a mere dry-eyed barrister
to defend him, was hanged.
POSTSCRIPT.
WITH the record of my sentence
of transportation, my life as
a Rogue ends, and my existence
as a respectable man begins.
I am sorry to say anything which
may disturb popular delusions
on the subject of poetical justice,
but this is strictly the truth.
My first anxiety was about
my wife's future.
Mr. Batterbury gave me no chance
of asking his advice after the
trial. The moment sentence had
been pronounced, he allowed himself
to be helped out of court in
a melancholy state of prostration,
and the next morning he left
for London. I suspect he was
afraid to face me, and nervously
impatient, besides, to tell Annabella
that he had saved the legacy
again by another alarming sacrifice.
My father and mother, to whom
I had written on the subject
of Alicia, were no more to be
depended on than Mr. Batterbury.
My father, in answering my letter,
told me that he conscientiously
believed he had done enough in
forgiving me for throwing away
an excellent education, and disgracing
a respectable name. He added
that he had not allowed my letter
for my mother to reach her, out
of pitying regard for her broken
health and spirits; and he ended
by telling me (what was perhaps
very true) that the wife of such
a son as I had been, had no claim
upon her father-in-law's protection
and help. There was an end, then,
of any hope of finding resources
for Alicia among the members
of my own family.
The next thing was to discover
a means of providing for her
without assistance. I had formed
a project for this, after meditating
over my conversations with the
returned transport in Barkingham
jail, and I had taken a reliable
opinion on the chances of successfully
executing my design from the
solicitor who had prepared my
defense.
Alicia herself was so earnestly
in favor of assisting in my experiment,
that she declared she would prefer
death to its abandonment. Accordingly,
the necessary preliminaries were
arranged; and, when we parted,
it was some mitigation of our
grief to know that there was
a time appointed for meeting
again. Alicia was to lodge with
a distant relative of her mother's
in a suburb of London; was to
concert measures with this relative
on the best method of turning
her jewels into money; and was
to follow her convict husband
to the Antipodes, under a feigned
name, in six months' time.
If my family had not abandoned
me, I need not have thus left
her to help herself. As it was,
I had no choice. One consolation
supported me at parting--she
was in no danger of persecution
from her father. A second letter
from him had arrived at Crickgelly,
and had been forwarded to the
address I had left for it. It
was dated Hamburg, and briefly
told her to remain at Crickgelly,
and expect fresh instructions,
explanations, and a supply of
money, as soon as he had settled
the important business matters
which had taken him abroad. His
daughter answered the letter,
telling him of her marriage,
and giving him an address at
a post-office to write to, if
he chose to reply to her communication.
There the matter rested.
What was I to do on my side?
Nothing but establish a reputation
for mild behavior. I began to
manufacture a character for myself
for the first days of our voyage
out in the convict-ship; and
I landed at the penal settlement
with the reputation of being
the meekest and most biddable
of felonious mankind.
After a short probationary
experience of such low convict
employments as lime-burning and
road-mending, I was advanced
to occupations more in harmony
with my education. Whatever I
did, I never neglected the first
great obligation of making myself
agreeable and amusing to everybody.
My social reputation as a good
fellow began to stand as high
at one end of the world as ever
it stood at the other. The months
passed more quickly than I had
dared to hope. The expiration
of my first year of transportation
was approaching, and already
pleasant hints of my being soon
assigned to private service began
to reach my ears. This was the
first of the many ends I was
now working for; and the next
pleasant realization of my hopes
that I had to expect, was the
arrival of Alicia.
She came, a month later than
I had anticipated; safe and blooming,
with five hundred pounds as the
produce of her jewels, and with
the old Crickgelly alias (changed
from Miss to Mrs. Giles), to
prevent any suspicions of the
connection between us.
Her story (concocted by me
before I left England) was, that
she was a widow lady, who had
come to settle in Australia,
and make the most of her little
property in the New World. One
of the first things Mrs. Giles
wanted was necessarily a trustworthy
servant, and she had to make
her choice of one among the convicts
of good character, to be assigned
to private service. Being one
of that honorable body myself
at the time, it is needless to
say that I was the fortunate
man on whom Mrs. Giles's choice
fell. The first situation I got
in Australia was as servant to
my own wife.
Alicia made a very indulgent
mistress.
If she had been mischievously
inclined, she might, by application
to a magistrate, have had me
flogged or set to work in chains
on the roads, whenever I became
idle or insubordinate, which
happened occasionally. But instead
of complaining, the kind creature
kissed and made much of her footman
by stealth, after his day's work.
She allowed him no female followers,
and only employed one woman-servant
occasionally, who was both old
and ugly. The name of the footman
was Dear in private, and Francis
in company; and when the widowed
mistress, upstairs, refused eligible
offers of marriage (which was
pretty often), the favored domestic
in the kitchen was always informed
of it, and asked, with the sweetest
humility, if he approved of the
proceeding.
Not to dwell on this anomalous
period of my existence, let me
say briefly that my new position
with my wife was of the greatest
advantage in enabling me to direct
in secret the profitable uses
to which her little fortune was
put.
We began in this way with an
excellent speculation in cattle--buying
them for shillings and selling
them for pounds. With the profits
thus obtained, we next tried
our hands at houses--first buying
in a small way, then boldly building,
and letting again and selling
to great advantage. While these
speculations were in progress,
my behavior in my wife's service
was so exemplary, and she gave
me so excellent a character when
the usual official inquiries
were instituted, that I soon
got the next privilege accorded
to persons in my situation--a
ticket-of-leave. By the time
this had been again exchanged
for a conditional pardon (which
allowed me to go about where
I pleased in Australia, and to
trade in my own name like any
unconvicted merchant) our house-property
had increased enormously, our
land had been sold for public
buildings, and we had shares
in the famous Emancipist's Bank,
which produced quite a little
income of themselves.
There was now no need to keep
the mask on any longer.
I went through the superfluous
ceremony of a second marriage
with Alicia; took stores in the
city; built a villa in the country;
and here I am at this present
moment of writing, a convict
aristocrat--a prosperous, wealthy,
highly respectable mercantile
man, with two years of my sentence
of transportation still to expire.
I have a barouche and two bay
horses, a coachman and page in
neat liveries, three charming
children, and a French governess,
a boudoir and lady's-maid for
my wife. She is as handsome as
ever, but getting a little fat.
So am I, as a worthy friend remarked
when I recently appeared holding
the plate, at our last charity
sermon.
What would my surviving relatives
and associates in England say,
if they could see me now? I have
heard of them at different times
and through various channels.
Lady Malkinshaw, after living
to the verge of a hundred, and
surviving all sorts of accidents,
died quietly one afternoon, in
her chair, with an empty dish
before her, and without giving
the slightest notice to anybody.
Mr. Batterbury, having sacrificed
so much to his wife's reversion,
profited nothing by its falling
in at last. His quarrels with
my amiable sister--which took
their rise from his interested
charities toward me--ended in
producing a separation. And,
far from saving anything by Annabella's
inheritance of her pin-money,
he had a positive loss to put
up with, in the shape of some
hundreds extracted yearly from
his income, as alimony to his
uncongenial wife. He is said
to make use of shocking language
whenever my name is mentioned,
and to wish that he had been
carried off by the yellow fever
before he ever set eyes on the
Softly family.
My father has retired from
practice. He and my mother have
gone to live in the country,
near the mansion of the only
marquis with whom my father was
actually and personally acquainted
in his professional days. The
marquis asks him to dinner once
a year, and leaves a card for
my mother before he returns to
town for the season. A portrait
of Lady Malkinshaw hangs in the
dining-room. In this way, my
parents are ending their days
contentedly. I can honestly say
that I am glad to hear it.
Doctor Dulcifer, when I last
heard of him, was editing a newspaper
in America. Old File, who shared
his flight, still shares his
fortunes, being publisher of
his newspaper. Young File resumed
coining operations in London;
and, having braved his fate a
second time, threaded his way,
in due course, up to the steps
of the scaffold. Screw carries
on the profitable trade of informer,
in London. The dismal disappearance
of Mill I have already recorded.
So much on
the subject of my relatives
and associates. On
the subject of myself, I might
still write on at considerable
length. But while the libelous
title of "A ROGUE'S LIFE" stares
me in the face at the top of
the page, how can I, as a rich
and reputable man, be expected
to communicate any further autobiographical
particulars, in this place, to
a discerning public of readers?
No, no, my friends! I am no longer
interesting--I am only respectable
like yourselves. It is time to
say "Good-by." |