CHAPTER XXIX.
Philip Hastings had calculated much upon his Roman firmness; and hecould have borne death, or any great and sudden calamity, withfortitude; but small evils often affect us more than great ones. Heknew not what it is to suffer long imprisonment, to undergo thewearing, grinding process of life within a prison's walls. He knew notthe effect of long suspense either, of the fretful impatience for someturn in our fate, of the dull monotony of long continued expectationand protracted disappointment, of the creeping on of leaden despair,which craves nothing in the end but some change, be it for better orfor worse.
They took him to Newgate--the prison of common felons, and there, in asmall room, strictly guarded, he remained for more than two months. Atfirst he would send for no lawyer, for he fancied that there musteither be some error on the part of the government, or that thesuspicion against him must be so slight as to be easily removable. Butday went by on day, and hour followed hour, without any appearance ofa change in his fate. There came a great alteration, however, in hischaracter. He became morose, gloomy, irritable. Every dark point inhis own fate and history--every painful event which had occurred formany years--every doubt or suspicion which had spread gloom andanxiety through his mind, was now magnified a thousand-fold by long,brooding, solitary meditation. He pondered such things daily, hourly,in the broad day, in the dead, still night, when want of exercisedeprived him of sleep, till his brain seemed to turn, and his wholeheart was filled with stern bitterness.
Marlow, who visited him every day by permission of the Secretary ofState, found him each day much changed, both in appearance andmanner; and even his conversation gave but small relief. He heard withsmall emotion the news of the day, or of his own family. He read theletters of his wife and daughter coldly. He heard even theintelligence that Sir John Fenwick was condemned for high treason, andto die on a scaffold, without any appearance of interest. He remainedself-involved and thoughtful.
At length, after a long interval--for the government was undecided howto proceed in his and several other cases connected with that famousconspiracy--a day was appointed for his first examination by theSecretary of State; for matters were then conducted in a verydifferent manner from that in which they are treated at present; andhe was carried under guard to Whitehall.
Vernon was a calm and not unamiable man; and treating the prisonerwith unaffected gentleness, he told him that the government was veryanxious to avoid the effusion of any more blood, and expressed a hopethat Mr. Hastings would afford such explanations of his conduct aswould save the pain of proceeding against him. He did not wish by anymeans, he said, to induce him to criminate himself; but merely to givesuch explanations as he might think fit.
Philip Hastings replied, with stern bitterness, that before he couldgive any explanations, he must learn what there was in his conduct toexplain. "It has ever been open, plain, and straightforward," he said."I have taken no part in conspiracies, very little part in politics. Ihave nothing to fear from any thing I myself can utter; for I havenothing to conceal. Tell me what is the charge against me, and I willanswer it boldly. Ask what questions you please; and I will reply atonce to those to which I can find a reply in my own knowledge."
"I thought the nature of the charge had been made fully known to you,"replied Vernon. "However, it is soon stated. You are charged, Mr.Hastings, with having taken a most decided part in the criminaldesigns, if not in the criminal acts, of that unfortunate man Sir JohnFenwick. Nay, of having first suggested to him the darkest of all hisdesigns, namely, the assassination of his Majesty."
"I suggest the assassination of the King!" exclaimed Mr. Hastings. "Ipropose such an act! Sir, the charge is ridiculous. Has not the onlyshare I ever took in politics been to aid in placing King William uponthe throne, and consistently to support his government since? What theministers of the crown can seek by bringing such a charge against me,I know not; but it is evidently fictitious, and of course has anobject."
Vernon's cheek grew somewhat red, and he replied warmly, "That is anover-bold assertion, sir. But I will soon satisfy you that it isunjust, and that the crown has not acted without cause. Allow me,then, to tell you, that no sooner had the conspiracy of Sir JohnFenwick been detected, and his apprehension been made known, thaninformation was privately given--from your own part of the country--tothe following effect;" and he proceeded try to read from a paper,which had evidently been folded in the form of a letter, the ensuingwords: "That on the ---- day of May last, when walking in the gardensof his own house, called 'The Court,' he--that is yourself, sir--usedthe following language to Sir John Fenwick: 'When no other means canbe found of obtaining justice, freedom, and security, I see no reasonwhy a king should not be put to death as well as any other man. He whodoes the deed merits a monument rather than a gibbet.' Such was theinformation, sir, on which government first acted in causing yourapprehension."
The Secretary paused, and for a few moments Mr. Hastings remainedgazing down in silence, like a man utterly confounded. Vernon thoughthe had touched him home; but the emotions in the prisoner's bosom,though very violent, were very different from those which theSecretary attributed to him. He remembered the conversation well, buthe remembered also that the only one who, besides Sir John Fenwick,was with him at the moment, was his own child. I will not dwell uponhis feelings, but they absorbed him entirely, till the Secretary wenton, saying--"Not satisfied with such slender information, Mr.Hastings, the government caused that unhappy criminal, Sir JohnFenwick, to be asked, after his fate was fixed, if he recollected yourhaving used those words to him, and he replied, something very likethem.'"
"And I reply the same," exclaimed Philip Hastings, sternly. "I did usethose words, or words very like them. But, sir, they were inconnection with others, which, had they been repeated likewise, wouldhave taken all criminal application from them. May I be permitted tolook at that letter in your hand, to see how much was really told, howmuch suppressed?"
"I have read it all to you," said Mr. Vernon, "but you may look at itif you please," and he handed it to him across the table. PhilipHastings spread it out before him, trembling violently, and then drewanother letter from his pocket, and laid them aide by side. He ran hiseye from one to the other for a moment or two, and then sunk slowlydown, fainting upon the floor.
While a turnkey and one of the messengers raised him, and some effortswere made to bring him back to consciousness, Mr. Vernon walked roundthe table and looked at the two letters which were still lying on it.He compared them eagerly, anxiously. The handwriting of the one wasvery similar to that of the other, and in the beginning of that whichMr. Hastings had taken from his pocket, the Secretary found the words,"My dear father." It was signed, "Emily Hastings;" and Vernoninstantly comprehended the nature of the terrible emotion he hadwitnessed.
He was really, as I have said, a kind and humane man, and he felt verymuch for the prisoner, who was speedily brought to himself again, andseated in a chair before the table.
"Perhaps, Mr. Hastings," said Vernon, "we had better not protract thisconversation today. I will see you again to-morrow, at this hour, ifyou would prefer that arrangement."
"Not at all, sir," answered the prisoner, "I will answer now, forthough the body be weak, the spirit is strong. Remember, however, thatI am not pleading for life. Life is valueless to me. The block and axewould be a relief. I am only pleading to prevent my own character frombeing stained, and to frustrate this horrible design. I used the wordsimputed to me; but if I recollect right, with several qualifications,even in the sentence which has been extracted. But before that, manyother words had passed which entirely altered the whole bearing of thequestion. The conversation began about the regicides of the greatrebellion, and although my father was of the party in arms against theKing, I expressed my unqualified disapprobation of their conduct inputting their sovereign to death. I then approached as a mere matterof abstract reasoning, in which, perhaps, I am too apt to indulge, thesubject of man's right to resist by any means an unendurabl
e tyranny,and I quoted the example of Brutus and William Tell; and it was in thecourse of these abstract remarks, that I used the words which havebeen cited. I give you my word, however, and pledge my honor, that Ientertained no thought, and had no cause whatever to believe that SirJohn Fenwick who was dining with me as an old acquaintance,entertained hostile designs against the government of his nativeland."
"Your admitted opinions, Mr. Hastings," said Vernon, "seem to me to bevery dangerous ones."
"That may be," replied the prisoner, "but in this country at least,sir, you cannot kill a man for opinions."
"No; but those opinions, expressed in conversation with others whoproceed to acts," replied Vernon, "place a man in a very dangerousposition, Mr. Hastings. I will not conceal from you that you are insome peril; but at the same time I am inclined to think that theevidence, without your admissions this day, might prove insufficient,and it is not my intention to take advantage of any thing you havesaid. I shall report to his Majesty accordingly; but the proceedingsof the government will be guided by the opinion of the law officers ofthe crown, and not by mine. I therefore can assure you of nothingexcept my sincere grief at the situation in which you are placed."
"I little heed the result of your report, sir," replied Mr. Hastings;"life, I say, is valueless to me, and if I am brought to trial forwords very innocently spoken, I shall only make the same defence Ihave done this day, and I shall call no witness; the only witness ofthe whole," he added with stern, concentrated bitterness, "is probablyon the side of the crown."
Mr. Hastings was then removed to Newgate, leaving the two letters onthe table behind him, and as soon as he was gone, Mr. Vernon sent amessenger to an inn near Charing Cross, to say he should be glad tospeak for a few moments with Mr. Marlow. In about half an hour Marlowwas there, and was received by Vernon as an old acquaintance. The doorwas immediately closed, and Marlow seated himself near the table,turning his eyes away, however, as an honorable man from the paperswhich lay on it.
"I have had an interview with your friend, Mr. Marlow," said theSecretary, "and the scene has been a very gainful one. Mr. Hastingshas been more affected than I expected, and actually fainted."
Marlow's face expressed unutterable astonishment, for the idea ofPhilip Hastings fainting under any apprehension whatever, could neverenter into the mind of any one who knew him.
"Good God!" he exclaimed, "what could be the cause of that! Not fear,I am sure."
"Something more painful than even fear, I believe," replied Mr.Vernon; "Mr. Hastings has a daughter, I believe?"
"Yes, sir, he has," replied Marlow, somewhat stiffly.
"Do you know her handwriting?" asked the Secretary.
"Yes, perfectly well," answered Marlow.
"Then be so good as to take up that letter next you," said Vernon,"and tell me if it is in her hand."
Marlow took up the paper, glanced at it, and at once said, "Yes;" butthe next instant he corrected himself, saying, "No, no--it is verylike Emily's hand--very, very like; but more constrained."
"May not that proceed from an attempt to disguise her hand?" askedVernon.
"Or from an attempt on the part of some other to imitate it," rejoinedMarlow; "but this is very strange, Mr. Vernon; may I read thisthrough?"
"Certainly," replied the Secretary, and Marlow read every word threeor four times over with eager attention. They seemed to affect himvery much, for notwithstanding the Secretary's presence, he started upand paced the room for a minute or two in thought.
"I must unravel this dark mystery," he said at length. "Mr. Vernon,there have been strange things taking place lately in the family ofMr. Hastings. Things which have created in my mind a suspicion thatsome secret and external agency is at work to destroy his peace aswell as to ruin his happiness, and still more, I fear, to ruin thehappiness of his daughter. This letter is but one link in a long chainof suspicious facts, and I am resolved to sift the whole matter to thebottom. The time allowed me to do so, must depend upon the course youdetermine to pursue towards Mr. Hastings. If you resolve to proceedagainst him I must lose no time--although I think I need hardly say,there is small chance of your success upon such evidence as this;" andhe struck the letter with his fingers.
"We have more evidence, such as it is," replied Vernon, "and hehimself admits having used those words."
Marlow paused thoughtfully, and then replied, "He may have usedthem--he is very likely to have used them; but it must have been quiteabstractedly, and with no reference to any existing circumstance. Iremember the occasion on which Sir John Fenwick dined with him,perfectly. I was there myself. Now let me see if I can recall all thefacts. Yes, I can, distinctly. During the whole of dinner--during theshort time we sat after dinner, those words were never used; nor wereconspiracies and treason ever thought of. I remember, too, from aparticular circumstance, that when we went out into the gardens Mr.Hastings took his daughter's arm, and walked up and down the terracewith Sir John Fenwick at his side. That must have been the moment. ButI need hardly point out to you, Mr. Vernon, that such was not a timewhen any man in his senses, and especially a shrewd, cunning, timidman, like Sir John Fenwick, would have chosen for the development oftreasonable designs."
"Were any other persons near?" asked Vernon; "the young lady mighthave been in the conspiracy as well as her father."
Marlow laughed. "There were a dozen near," he answered; "they weresubject to interruption at any moment--nay, they could not have goneon for three minutes; for that space of time did not elapse after thegentlemen entered the garden where the ladies were, before I was atEmily's side, and not one word of this kind was spoken afterwards."
"Then what could have induced her to report those words to thegovernment?" asked Mr. Vernon.
"She never did so," replied Marlow, earnestly; "this is not herhandwriting, though the imitation is very good--and now, sir," hecontinued, "if it be proper, will you explain to me what course youintend to pursue, that I may act accordingly? For as I before said, Iam resolved to search this mystery out into its darkest recesses. Ithas gone on too long already."
Vernon smiled. "You are asking a good deal," he said, "but yet myviews are so strong upon the subject, that I think I may venture tostate them, even if the case against Mr. Hastings should be carried astep or two farther--which might be better, in order to insure his notbeing troubled on an after occasion. I shall strongly advise that a_nolle prosequi_ be entered, and I think I may add that my advice willbe taken."
"You think I have asked much already, Mr. Vernon," said Marlow, "but Iam now going to ask more. Will you allow me to have this letter? Igive you my word of honor that it shall only be used for the purposesof justice. You have known me from my boyhood, my dear sir; you cantrust me."
"Perfectly, my young friend," replied Vernon, "but you must not takethe letter to-day. In two days the action of the government will bedetermined, and if it be such as I anticipate you shall have thepaper, and I trust it will lead to some discovery of the motives andcircumstances of this strange transaction. Most mysterious itcertainly is; for one can hardly suppose any one but a fiend thusseeking to bring a father's life into peril."
"A fiend!" exclaimed Marlow, with a scoff, "much more like an angel,my dear sir."
"You seem to think so," said Vernon, smiling, "and I trust, thoughlove is blind, he may have left you clear-sighted in this instance."
"I think he has," answered Marlow, "and as this young lady's fate issoon to be united to mine, it is very necessary I should see clearly.I entertain no doubt, indeed, and I say boldly, that Emily never wrotethis letter. It will give me, however, a clue which perhaps may leadme to the end of the labyrinth, though as yet I hardly see my way. Buta strong resolution often does much.
"Might it not be better for you," asked Vernon, "to express yourdoubts in regard to this letter to Mr. Hastings himself? He wasterribly affected, as well he might be, when he saw this document, andbelieved it to be his own child's writing."
Marlow mused for some time
ere he replied. "I think not," he answeredat length; "he is a man of peculiar disposition; stern, somewhatgloomy, but honorable, upright, and candid. Now what I am going to saymay make me appear as stern as himself, but if he is suffering fromdoubts of that dear girl, knowing her as well as he does, he issuffering from his own fault, and deserves it. However, my object isnot to punish him, but thoroughly, completely, and for ever to openhis eyes, and to show him so strongly that he has done his childinjustice, as to prevent his ever doing the like again. This can onlybe done by bringing all the proofs upon him at once, and my task isnow to gather them together. To my mere opinion regarding thehandwriting, he would not give the slightest heed, but he will notshut his eyes to proofs. May I calculate upon having the letter in twodays?"
"I think you may," replied Vernon.
"Then when will Mr. Hastings be set free?" asked Marlow; "I shouldwish to have some start of him into the country."
"That will depend upon various circumstances," replied the Secretary;"I think we shall take some steps towards the trial before we enterthe _nolle prosequi_. It is necessary to check in some way theexpression of such very dangerous opinions as he entertains."
Marlow made no reply but by a smile, and they soon after parted.