Temper: a tale

Front matter

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" The Author's views of the Slave Traile and its results are borne ont by the facts which Lav, been adduced. We could fill our pages with the horrors which stare U9 in the face almost in every page of his book.' — Ifaval and Military Gd.ette. TEMPER. A TALE. BY EMILIA MARRYAT, Daughter of the late Captain Marryat, AUTHOR OF "PETER SIMPLE," "MIDSHIPMAN EASY," ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: THOMAS CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE 1854. TEMPER

Chapter I

When Lawrence Arden was placed at the bar, he looked composedly round the court, and recognised in a moment many of his former acquaintances, congregated there from various motives, some, such as Cornet Noodle from mere idle curiosity, whilst others had attended out of real in terest felt in the criminal himself. VOL. II. b TEMPER. Amongst these was the Colonel, who was anxiously waiting the issue of the trial, and, as he confidently expected, the ac quittal of his young officer. A prisoner accused of such a crime as the present stood charged with, must be always an object of interest, so long as the spectators are men liable to crime themselves ; but Lawrence Arden carried the sympathies as well as interest of those assembled, by the circumstances of the case, his position, his youth, and perhaps not the least, by his personal appear ance.

He was dressed in deep mourning still for "Wilmott, and looked deadly pale, as he encountered the eyes of all fixed upon him ; but there was nothing of villany in TEMPER, his face, and he stood as upright in the dock, as if he had been on parade. The charge was made in the usual manner against him, and in answer to the question of the officer of the court, to the surprise of all, Lawrence Arden replied, distinctly — " Guilty, my Lord." There was a general murmur of disap pointment ; and Colonel , leaving his place, came round to the dock, and ad dressed Lawrence with — • " You must not say so, Arden \ you must plead ' Not Guilty.' " " I am guilty, sir," said Lawrence, firmly, " and cannot tell a lie in court or anywhere else." " Nonsense," said the Colonel, " my de.ir fellow, it is but a forja.

There is 3 TEMPER. time to change your mind ; you must plead • Not Guilty.' " " I cannot, indeed," returned Law rence. The Colonel made a gesture of im patience, and returned to his seat. The clerk of indictments then de manded of the prisoner whether he had anything to say why sentence of death should not be passed upon him. There was an agitation in the court at the question, followed by a dead silence, as if it was expected that Lawrence Ar den would speak, and seeing the evident anticipation which the looks of the people evinced, having obtained permission of the judge, he raised himself to his full height, and spoke as follows : — " My Lord — I know that many here TEMPER, are surprised that I have employed no counsel, and have taken no legal means of clearing myself of the terrible accusa tion under which I stand ; for I am aware my defence might have been made good, and perhaps a guilty man might have escaped the retribution of the laws he has offended ; but what may, in general, be looked upon as a form, I cannot aoquiesce in.

My hps refuse to utter the first word, when I know that I am guilty. Do not think that now I am about to make any defence ; my crime is without pallia tion ; for although, God forbid that I should have meant to take his hfe, yet blinded by the heat of passion, I fired in tentionally, almost without an object, and cut off prematurely a better man than I. ° I would not extenuate the wrong I TEMPER did ; the deed is there to testify against me, yet, with your permission, I would address a few words to those assembled, here, in this place, where I have been accused, and shall be condemned. I would, at least, entreat of those around me, to shun my fate. They say that the words of a dying man must impress the hearers ; I am in that position. " It is improbable, indeed God so grant it, that many here should ever be in the disgraceful situation in which I now stand — but many here may live as I have lived — self-reliant alone.

I would ask them when their impulsive natures would carry them away to thoughtless acts, to think of me. When the rash blow would follow so quickly on the angry words ; when the hot seehng rises to the throat, and reason TEMPER, 7 is blinded and displaced by passion, to re member me. " My father left me with an honorable name, and see how I have dishonored it. I started in life with fail" prospects, with advantages more thatt. trttfit, and I have destroyed them all. By one rash act, I I have dashed to the ground all the hap piness which might have been mine. At the age of twenty-five, I relinquish all ; honor, prospects, my good name, and stand an outcast and degraded man, bearing the brand of murder, waiting for the punishment of murder, and leaving behind me only the memory of wrong. " ' He that hath no rule over his Own spirit is like a city that is broken down and without walls.' " *' Many will perhaps fondly excuse TEMPER, themselves with the plea that for a temper born with them, they are not accountable.

So have I sheltered myself ; but will now the world excuse me ? will the Almighty pass it by on such a plea ? " I came into the world truly with the temperament which has been my curse, but I myself worked the curse by allowing my natural disposition to be my master. There is no spirit given to man but what may be ruled by man, yet not in his own strength. " By self-confidence, my city has broken down. I leant upon my judgment and my strength, and thought my own knowledge of right sufficient to guide me, and in the face of constant warnings, and proof against continual outbursts which showed my weakness, I pursued my TEMPER, 9 course, thinking that when the warm feel ings of youth were passed, I should learn to control what I would not allow the necessity of amending. "The fallacy of all such reasoning, too common to these of my unhappy tempera ment, one glance at the position in which I stand will teach you more forcibly, than I could speak. u I will not detain you by speaking further.

I thank you, heartily thank you, for the kind interest you have many of you shewn in my unhappy fate ; and if in after years, when nothing remains of me but my departed name, you should ever be reminded of this day, think that I was not always as you see me now, and re member how deeply I felt, but when too late to retrieve the evil I had done, that I b TEMPI R had built upon a treacherous foundation, and how I acknowledged in bitterness of regret that man in his own strength is perfect weakness." When Lawrence Arden concluded, there were one or two sounds in the court very like emotion, and the face of the speaker twitched for a moment as he heard them. All those present must have been pre pared by this time for the issue of the trial, yet there was a sense of horror per vading the spectators, as the judge, after a few moments' deliberation, put on the black cap.

Lawrence Arden listened with stern composure to the sentence, and bowed his head at its conclusion ; then turning towards his brother, who was as close be- TEMPER 11 hind him as he could be, he placed his hand in his. "Thank God it is over," said he. " Herbert, go quickly to Mary." Those who had come as sight-seers only were disappointed that the trial had come to so quick a termination, having looked for a long and interesting case, and felt as if the prisoner had done them an injustice by pleading guilty at the onset. Mary Arden had, as she had intended throughout, been present at her brother's trial, accompanied by Miss Smith, her in defatigable and devoted attendant, who, poor old lady, was not a consolatory com panion to any one, in that she did little else than cry, and who, when first she saw her dear Lawrence placed in the dock, almost went into convulsions of grief.

TEMPER. Mary bore the scene with unexpected composure ; she kept her eyes fixed upon her brother with a look of affectionate in terest, and seemed unconscious of what was being said around her. When the murmur rose in court on the prisoner's pleading guilty, Mary did not appear to understand the cause of the dissatisfac tion, and it was not until Lawrence com menced speaking that his sister was at all aware of what was being said. She then listened eagerly to every word which came from his lips, and the horrid truth burst upon her, that Lawrence had persisted in his original declaration that he had intentionally fired at Wilmott. Mary heard him to the end, and her head sunk down upon her breast, although she did not fall from her seat. She was un- TEMPER. conscious of anything else that passed in the court, and was not roused to recollec tion till she heard her brother Herbert speaking to her, and she allowed him to take her to the house where they had lodgings.

Lawrence had seen his sister, and it had added to the pain he had felt during his trial : from time to time his eye had glanced in the direction where she sat, until, as he concluded his speech, he per ceived her head fall forwards, while Miss Smith, who had her face buried in her pocket-handkerchief, was quite unaware of the situation of ber pupil. In the position in which Herbert stood, he could not see what had taken place ; but as soon as Lawrence spoke to him, he hastened to his sister, and did not leave EHM7KB her until ehe had, in a degree, recovered from the effects of the painful scene she had gone through. She was not aware of Lawrence's condemnation, and Herbert enjoined upon Miss Smith the necessity of keeping her ignorant of it for the present. It was now late in the day, and Herbert was most anxious to see his brother ; so leaving Mary under the care of her Governess, whose affection he could always trust to, however her strength of mind might be at fault, he took his way to the Castle. TEMPER

Chapter II

As Herbert Arden hastened along the streets of Norwich, he caught sight of what he thought was a familiar figure. Herbert did not stop, but looking quickly at him, saw that it was Grant Selby. Probably he had come to Norwich to see the issue of Lawrence's trial ; naturally he would feel an interest in the affair ; having been all his life long so intimate with the Ardens, he must sympathize in TEMPEi the distress of those from whom he had received such unvaried kindness. Herbert was in a great hurry and did not wish to stop, so he nodded his head towards Grant Selby in a friendly man ner and continued his way. The latter gentleman colored very much, looked con fused, hardly returned the greeting, and shuffled across the street. At another time Herbert Arden would havo wondered what influenced his con duct, but now his mind was pre-occupied and he did not give him more than a passing thought, as he lost sight of him, whilst Grant Selby at once determined to return to town that evening.

The following morning, Grant Selby was in the bosom of his family — at times, rather a stormy and uncomfortable bosom TEMPER — who were all anxious to learn the parti culars of his stay at Norwich. They asked him many questions as to the trial, and upon hearing the issue of it, the whole party burst into exclamations of horror. " I saw Arden before I left Norwich," said Grant Selby. " What ?" said one of his sisters. " Lawrence Arden ?" " No, no, the brother ; I met him in the street, but of course I did not speak to him." " I suppose he was scarcely inclined to speak to you ?" observed his younger brother Richard, who was home for a short time on leave, being in the navy. "I did not ask him," answered the other. " He nodded in what I call rather a cool TEMPER, manner ; of course I could not speak to him."

" Why of course ? I do not understand you," rejoined Richard, who had a not very amiable pleasure in contradicting his elder brother, whom he despised. u Ex plain yourself, Bill." Grant Selby rather winced at being called Bill, but he knew it was of no use to dispute the point, and he answered — * It is not a creditable thing in fact, to have been so intimate with the Ardens as things have happened." " Do you mean to say," said Richard slowly, " that you avoided speaking to Herbert Arden because the trial was gone against his brother '?" " Why, you see Richard — " ' Would you have continued the inti- TEMPER macy supposing the man bad been ac quitted ?" "That would not have been the same thing. Have you not the sense to know that •an aflkir, such as this, puts a stigma upon all belonging to a man, which — " "Which it is your duty to work out personally ? no ; I have not the sense to see that.

I suppose that you have for gotten that you have stayed in Herbert Arden' s house repeatedly, and received kindness from him." " But, Richard—" " Bill," exclaimed the other, " you are a sneak — a mean spirited sneak." " Upon my word, Richard," commenced his brother, growing very red. " Riehard, I am surprised at you," ex- TEMPER. claimed the old Selby, while Mrs. Selby shook her head. " Do not you agree with me sir, that Bill ought to be ashamed of himself ?" " My dear Richard," said Miss Louisa Selby, " I do wish you would not call Grant, Bill, it sounds so very vulgar." " You know Louisa I never call him anything but Bill, and you called him the same when we were children. I do not consider Grant his name at all." " No, Richard," said Mr. Selby, in answer to his son's question, "I do not agree with you; it is true that the Ardens have behaved civilly towards your bro ther ; but when such an event as this happens in a family they must — how — what would people think — why the fellow will be hanged.

The intimacy, as Wil- TEMPER liam says, will be no credit to us, I can assure you," and the old man got quite puffy. " People think !" exclaimed Richard, in a burst of generous disgust. " What on earth does it signify what people think. Is Wilham like an ungrateful hound to forget the kindness he has received from the Ardens, because one of them has gone wrong and made a mess of it. Let people think what they like — let us do what is right — I hate your ' people.' " "Richard," said Mrs. Selby, " I think you are very impertinent to your father, and rude towards your brother ; besides your argument is absurd. Everybody would agree with Grant that the Ardens must be cut." " I did not intend to be impertinent to TEMPER you, sir ; aa to Bill, I don't care. Every body, mother, just means nobody, and nobody means all the Thompsons, and Johnsons, and Jacksons, whose opinion is not worth hearing — although, as to that, I dare say Arden would not break his heart if he never saw my refined and respectable brother again.

I should doubt if there would be any very great blank left at Crantham when Bill cuts the connection. Bill looked indignant, but he always got the worst in a dispute with his bro ther, and he forbore to reply, while Richard inwardly determined to take the first opportunity of expressing in action his sympathy with the Ardens for what had taken place. He had not seen much of them of late TEMPER. years since they had all become men, for his profession, of course, took him con tinually from home, and his sojourns in England had been usually so short, that he had not found time to go to Crantham. Lawrence he had often seen when he was in town ; but Herbert only occasionally. It was with the more indignation that he now heard his brother's mean-spirited determination that upon Richard's own arrival at his father's house, Grant Selby had just returned from Crantham, where he had enjoyed the hospitality of its owner. TEMPER.

CHAPTER VII.

The trials were all over, the prisoners acquitted or condemned, and those con demned awaiting in the gaol the carrying out of their just sentences. What do you think, reader, would be the feelings of a man condemned to punishment, or trans portation, to leave his home and country, and spend years, perhaps a life, in a penal settlement, or to death ? You can have TEMPER no conception of such a man's feelings — no one can for another. We observed before that Norwich was as full as it could be, in consequence of the assizes ; not only those from all the country round, but numbers from London also, and other places ; and now that the business was ah over, the culprits tried and condemned, the company who had assembled at Norwich prepared for the amusing part of it. The amusing part of an assize !

Aye, the ball which follows immediately upon the sentence — " To be hanged by the neck till you are dead, and God have mercy on your soul." Will you come for a moment ashore with me, as we touch at that beautiful island, where the vegetation is luxuriant, and the air soft and fragrant, and the c VOL. TEMPER prospect beautiful beyond conception, being unbroken by brick and mortar? There " every prospect pleases, and only man is vile ;" for here men are savages, who, having taken a prisoner in battle, torture him to death, and, before they commence operating upon their victim, rejoice in his presence by dancing before him with brutal dehght. Disgusting sight ! is it not ? But these people are heathens, un lettered, unenlightened, and more de serving pity than reproach. Did you hear that distant sound ? it is meant for music, although scarcely merit ing the name.

There is merry-making going on surely. Shall we go in that direction, and discover what it is ? Drums are beating, aud there is a fire burning, and a woman mounts upon the blazing pile TEMPER, to destroy herself with the dead body of her husband, and while the flames are licking up her life, and scorching the screams she utters in her agony, those around her shout, and hoot, and play their music louder than before. Why tell us of such things ? We have heard them all before ; besides, they are sickening and shocking to think of. Those people are pagans who do such things — they know no better. Dear countrymen and countrywomen, did you ever, in the midst of your dancing at an assize ball, give a thought to the agonized wretches who had but just been sentenced ? Did you ever think what would be their feelings were they to hear you playing and laughing so lightly in answer to c TEMPER their groans ?

The same, many of them who had attended the trials, and seen the deathly pallor overspread a fellow creature's face at the ghastly sentence of death — a sentence which must have had effect upon those present besides the prisoner himself, which must have given the hghtest hearted there some serious thought); and is that thought to be ah danced off directly and forgotten ? Did it never strike you that it seems like a mockery of their misery to dance upon their condemnation, as if the merry music of the young and happy would strive to drown the groans and despairing sighs of those who are to suffer ? As if the living and the free would show to those whose course is prematurely to be TEMPER, 29 cut off, that they are still light and joyous, and have no fellow feeling for their fellow creatures.

Dear friends, is this right ? Think, in your impartial moments, when the temp tation of the music is not in your ears, should these things be ? Is this the ' time to dance ?' What did we say when we spoke of the savage ? He is unlettered, unenlightened, and more deserving pity than reproach. Are you unlettered and untaught ? Then answer, which do you most deserve ? And of the Hindoos ? They are pagans, and they know no better. What do you call yourselves, my countrymen ? You have been taught Christianity, and our sweet rehgion tells us to rejoice with those that rejoice not only, but to weep TEMPER, with those that weep. We do know better. We have no such excuse. The question is, or should be, in every case, what is right or wrong ? not what is ex pedient, or most agreeable to themselves. Will you answer honestly each in his own heart.

Thank God, Englishmen are honest, through all their faults, not say ing, " the culprits for whom you appear to feel such sympathy are justly con demned and well deserving of their suf ferings ; we had nothing to do with their crimes or their expiations ; our dancing over the heads of the miserable will not add to their pain, nor depriving ourselves of a pleasant evening lengthen the terms of their existences." True you have had nothing to do with all of this ; but then you have something TEMPER. to do with it when you finish the occasion of a nation's lamentation, the reckoning up of the crimes of its people, with a heed less dance. Do not make excuses. In a Christian country this is wrong. We do know better, and alas, shall have no ex tenuation in a plea of ignorance. Brothers and sisters, shall these things continue so ? TEMPER.

Chapter IV

Herbert Arden found Lawrence waiting for him impatiently, and as soon as the door was closed and they alone, he said — " Well, Herbert, it is all over with me at last, my life has come to an end." Herbert felt as despondent as his brother; he would have tried to cheer him, but he could not then speak a word of comfort, and it was with difficulty he TEMPER 33 could control himself. The dreadful words of condemnation were ringing in his ears, and had been ever since he had heard them. Both were silent for a few moments, and then Lawrence asked — "You did not expect I should deny the charge, Herbert, did you ?" " Not if you felt yourself guilty, Law rence ; but I had hoped you deceived yourself." " I would not have it otherwise," said Lawrence, after a pause. "It is a satis faction at least that I shall, to my country expiate my crime.

Herbert shuddered. " What a disgrace I am to you, Her bert. What will it profit you in the eyes of the world, that your character is unc TEMPER stained, that you have lived as an upright and honorable man, when you are brother to a felon. Oh, that I had been bom a common hind, without a relative in the world, that I might have died with igno miny, and no one be reproached with bearing the same name as I. What would our father have done, Herbert, had he lived to see this day." " Thank God he did not ; ho died bles sing you, Lawrence." The recollection of his father seemed to affect Lawrence, far more than the con templation of his own late. In the latter, indeed, he appeared to take a stern sort of satisfaction ; such a feeling as must have influenced Cranmer, when he put himself to uncalled for agony in burning that, ' unworthy hand.' A fierce revenge TEMPI 8, against himself, which he would himself strive to carry out.

" Herbert," said he, " with what satis faction to yourself, you may in after years look back upon this period : you have come out nobly brother, and I also, while I live, shall think of this time in one respect with pleasure, in that it has endeared you more than ever to me. I little thought, Her bert, when you, in our childish days used to be my mediator with my parents, when at school, I went to you for comfort or assistance, and when as men together, we had but one interest, even then my heart did not contemplate such a length as this. I always knew you loved me, but I did not know your love would follow even to prison or to death." Lawrence laid his hands upon the TEMPER shoulders of his brother as he spoke, and looked earnestly into Herbert's face with a melancholy, very foreign to his usual expression.

" When I am gone, Herbert," he con tinued, " if ever you think of me." " lf ever, Lawrence," said Arden, re proachfully. Lawrence took his hand with affection. " When you think of me then," he answered, " as you have seen me last, and remember that your only brother has been a disgrace to all belonging to him, recollect also all your own devotion in his hours of agony ; and reflect with pleasure that when all things seemed dead to him, when he had no outward comfort and no inward peaoe, that your love shed a halo on his path, which penetrated even to this TEMPER, gaol ; your love was the hnk which held him to a better hope, which kept him from utter despair at the loss of all ; and made him feel, although all men might, with justice turn their faces from him, that there was yet one tie which bound him to the good and upright of this world.

Do not forget me, Herbert, when I am gone ; I know you will not, but try to think of me, if you can, as I used to be, not as I am now." Herbert sat down by the heavy little table, and covered his face with his hands. Lawrence looked at him with concern, and ceased speaking, for he saw his brother was struggling for composure. " Dear Lawrence, I must leave you," TEMPER. said Herbert, hurriedly, as if wishing to escape from his own feehngs. " It is late — and — Mary — ' ' " Ah, poor, dear Mary," said the younger brother, the blood mounting to his brow — " what does she say of me ?" Herbert told him that his sister had not spoken upon the events of the day to any one, and had not mentioned the sub ject to him. Lawrence was agitated as Herbert spoke ; and as he held his hand in wishing him good bye, he observed — "We can never know how much we stand in need of the love of others until deprived of it.