The Black Box 33

The Black Box 33

Far into the night we two sat talking, until at last, in spite of

stifling heat and groans, we fell asleep.

 

I dreamt prodigiously, and, strange as it may seem to you, my dreams

were not unpleasant--being for the most part of old, happy clays long

passed--but, oh, the grim awakening!

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER XXIII*

 

*"The Scourge of the West"*

 

 

For one long, awful week I had lain a prisoner in that foul den, when at

length, on the third day of September, the roll of drums and blare of

trumpets told us that Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys was come into the town

to hold assize. Next morning he attended service at St. Mary’s Church,

and ’tis said that when the preacher mentioned mercy Jeffreys laughed

aloud; and I can well believe it, for with him "the quality of mercy",

so far from being "strained", was utterly unknown.

 

That day the bloody work began. Prisoners were hurried off in batches

to the court-house to be tried, and soon returned with faces which told

plainly of the sentence passed upon them. It had been pressed upon us

by our jailers that our only chance of pardon lay in pleading guilty,

but this was quickly found to be nothing save a wicked trap to hasten on

the business; for no sooner did a man plead guilty than he was condemned

to death. Never shall I forget the woeful, desperate looks of those

poor fellows as they were thrust back into the prison with the shadow of

the gallows over them. It was as though each had the noose already

round his neck.

 

All day long this branding for the death went forward, until at last,

when the judge rose from his labours, nearly a hundred had been

sentenced; Dr. Temple, old Sam Larkyns, and Sampson Larke, the

grey-haired Baptist minister of Lyme, among them.

 

Next day the ugly tale was taken up afresh--over another hundred were

condemned. Then Sunday brought a pause--but what a pause! The fate of

two parts of the prisoners was already sealed, while for the rest the

future held no sort of hope; nay, rather was that Sabbath but a black

suspense which lay between us and our doom. Despite the jailers, hymns

and prayers went up through that day of gloom, and when night fell a

simple, fervid faith had brought real fortitude to many, though here and

there loud cries and sobs betokened broken hearts which naught could

heal.

 

My turn came on the Monday, and I recollect how sweet it seemed, in

spite of that which lay before me, to pass from such pestiferous

foulness into the sunlight and breathe the cool, refreshing air again.

But we (there were some eighty of us) had little time to drink in these

delights, being hurried, under strong guard, along the streets and so

into the court-house.

 

The hall was hung with scarlet (fit colour for so murderous a place!),

and at the far end, seated in a high-backed chair upon a crimson-covered

dais (as though he swam in blood), I beheld the man whose very name was

already a terror and a byword, not only in the stricken West, but

throughout the length and breadth of England--the infamous Judge

Jeffreys. At a table beneath him sat the Crown lawyers, barristers and

others, shuffling and docketing their papers with much show of zeal, as

if, forsooth, the trial were a fair and righteous one rather than the

ghastly farce it was. On his left, in a sort of long narrow pew, sat

the jury--twelve fat, well-liking fellows--picked men from the county,

who could be counted on to send their fellow-countrymen to death at

Jeffreys’ bidding.

 

But though all this was new and strange to me it was the judge himself

who most surprised me. I had pictured him an ugly, coarse-faced fellow,

with something of the butcher in his bearing, but instead thereof I

found a not ill-featured man of under forty, who, notwithstanding that

debauchery had set its mark upon him, had still some claim to

handsomeness.

 

As he sat there, with his chin upon his hand, watching us in a dreamy,

thoughtful fashion as we filed into the hall, it seemed scarce credible

that this was the wild, ferocious brute whose ravening thirst for blood

had made a mockery of law and justice. But the grim truth soon crashed

on us like a thunderbolt.

 

As soon as we were all assembled there was dead silence for a good half

minute, then Jeffreys suddenly shot up and for a time stared at us with

a look of startled horror, as though he knew not who we were. At last he

leaned slowly forward with his hands upon the chair and said:

 

"What have we here? Can it be? Another batch of wickedness already!

How many do they number?"

 

"Eighty-and-eight, my lord," replied a clerk, rising with swift

readiness.

 

"Eighty-and-eight!" exclaimed the judge in horrified amazement.

"Eighty-and-eight more workers of iniquity! Eighty-and-eight more

traitors to as good and kind a king as e’er wore crown!

Eighty-and-eight more sinks of villainy and rank rebellion! Good Lord!

when shall we reach the end of this long tale of wickedness? Heavens!

if it doth not make me ill to think on’t! Yes, verily, it breaks my

heart!"

 

He sank back, groaning, in his chair and sobbed aloud. But this was

quickly past, and then he broke out on us with such a wild vehemence as

made the very lawyers gape upon him in amazement. He waved his arms,

stamped his feet, and struck the desk before him; his face went red and

white by turns, his throat swelled out until it seemed as though his

words would choke him. I never saw such blind, ungovernable fury. It

was as though some inward demon strove to rend him.

 

I will not make the vain attempt to set down here that mad harangue, for

no pen could do it rightly. Not till his breath forsook him did he stop;

then, having rested for a moment and refreshed himself with wine, he

started straightway on his work of butchery, sending men to their doom

at such a pace as gave them scarcely time to realize what had befallen

them. The dock was filled and emptied, filled and filled again. No

witnesses were called, and though a lawyer, briefed by the Crown, was

there for our defence, he soon proved but a puppet in the one great

farce, for when he spoke, a look or word from Jeffreys sent him, white

and trembling, into ignominious silence. And, if a prisoner dared to

raise his voice, he was immediately shouted down, with threatening

violence, by the judge.

 

Thus did that cruel, heartless work go on until at last it came to my

turn.

 

As I stepped forward and faced that demon in the wig and gown, the court

and all that it contained, save him--lawyers, jury, prisoners, and

everything--seemed to vanish, leaving us two alone. A pair of cruel,

ravening eyes I saw, and nothing else. Yet ’tis certain that I felt no

fear; and, indeed, I should have been a poltroon if I had, after seeing

how some four-score simple fellows had already faced this bullying

monster with unflinching courage and met their fate like heroes.

Therefore, with such brave examples as my guide, and looking on my fate

as settled, I only wished to get the business over speedily, and to show

Jeffreys that, although he had the power to kill me, nothing he might

say or do could shake my fortitude.

 

Thus, for what seemed to me some minutes, we stared at one another; then

Jeffreys leaned slowly forward, and, in a purring voice, like some great

cat about to spring, said:

 

"So you are Michael Fane, eh?"

 

"That is my name," I answered coldly.

 

"Ah! Michael Fane," he went on in the same low tones, "thou overgrown

young shoot of perfidy; thou offshoot of that gnarled old tree of evil,

Gilbert Fane, I----"

 

"Stop!" I broke in hotly. "Your power to hang me doth not include the

right to smirch a fair, good name. My father was as true and brave a

gentleman as e’er----"

 

[Illustration: MICHAEL FANE BEFORE JUDGE JEFFREYS]

 

"What’s that, sirrah?" shrieked the judge with throttling fury. "You

dare to interrupt me! Behold him, gentlemen!" he added, turning to the

jury, while he waved a hand at me. "Hark how yon mountain of iniquity

doth brazenly affront and flout me! Didst ever hear the like of such

amazing impudence? Oh, Michael Fane, thou cunning, treacherous dog,

have a care, yea, have a care, or ’twill be bad indeed for thee! Again

I say you are the offspring of as traitorous and false a sire as----"

 

"And I say again----" I began; but at that his fury burst forth like a

cataract.

 

"Sirrah," he shouted, waving his arms and thumping the desk in front of

him, "you dare to interrupt again! Have a care, yea, have a care, you

bellowing bull of Bashan! Another word, and, by my life, I’ll have you

swung off now from yonder beam! Ah! that tames you, does it? Say, how

tall are ye?"

 

"Six feet two."

 

"Six feet two! Behold him, gentlemen! Measure him with your eyes!

Seventy and four inches of such vileness as you ne’er set eyes upon

before! And how old are ye, pray?"

 

"Eighteen."

 

"Eighteen!" cried Jeffreys, raising both hands as though amazed.

"Eighteen, say ye! Gentlemen, gentlemen! Just consider it! To think

that such a sapling should have brought forth such a crop of wickedness!

Heavens, if it doth not almost make my heart stop beating! Oh, Michael

Fane, thou lusty limb of infamy! doth it not seem to you a mockery that

I should have to ask what plea you make? Yet, as the law is fair and

merciful e’en to such rogues as you, I must. What is it, counsel?"

 

The lawyer who, as I have said, was there for our defence, rose

tremblingly and answered: