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
learnedadviser and
respectable man. If these facts led to one
inevitableconclusion,
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
sentimentalaccount. 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
prominentvehemence, 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" target="_blank" title="n.运输;运送;运费">
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" target="_blank" title="n.运输;运送;运费">
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