Great Britain -- Social conditions -- 19th century -- Fiction
“Oh! you may forgive him, sir,” said Evans. “We should all have done the
same. No human creature could live the life they led him. Who could live
upon bread and water and punishment? It is a sorrowful sight, but it is
a happy release for him. Eh! poor lad,” said Evans, laying his hand upon
the body; “I liked thee well, but I am glad thou art gone. Thou hast
escaped away from worse trouble.”
“Come, it is no use sniveling, Evans,” put in Hawes. “I am as sorry for
this job as you are. But who would have thought he was so determined? He
gave us no warning.”
“Don't you believe that, sir,” cried Evans to Mr. Eden. “He gave them
plenty of warning. I heard him with my own ears tell you you were
killing him; not a day for the last fortnight he did not tell you so,
Mr. Hawes.”
“Well, I didn't believe him, you see.”
“You mean you didn't care.”
“Hold your tongue, Evans! You are disrespectful. How dare you speak to
me, you insolent dog? Hold your tongue!”
“No, sir, I won't hold my tongue over this dead body.”
“Be silent, Evans,” said Mr. Eden. “This is no place for disputes.
Evans, my heart is broken. While there is life there is hope; but here,
what hope is there? Many in this place live in crime, but this one has
died in crime; he of whom I had such good hopes has died in crime--died
by his own hand; he has murdered his own soul; my heart is broken!--my
heart is broken!” The good man's anguish was terrible.
Evans consoled him. “Don't go on so, sir! pray don't. Josephs is where
none of us but you shall ever get to; he is in heaven as sure as we are
upon earth. He was the best lad in the place; there wasn't a drop of
gall in him; who ever heard a bad word from him? and he did not kill
himself till he found he was to die whether or no; so then he shortened
his own death-struggle, and he was right.”
“I don't understand you.”
“I dare say not, sir; but those two understand me. Oh, it is no use to
look black at me now, Mr. Hawes; I shall speak my mind though my head
was to be cut off. I have been a coward; I thought too much of my wife
and children; but I am a man now. Eh! poor lad, thou shan't be maligned
now thou art dead, as well as tormented alive. Sir, he that lies here
so pale and calm was not guilty of self-destruction. He was driven to
death!--don't speak to me, sir, but look at me, and hear the truth,
as it will come out the day all of us in this cell are damned, except
you--and him!”
The man fell suddenly on his knees, took the dead boy's hand in his left
hand and held his right up, and in this strange attitude, which held all
his hearers breathless, he poured out a terrible tale.
His boiling heart and the touch of him, whom now too late he defended
like a man, gave him simple but real eloquence, and in few words, that
scalded as they fell, he told as powerfully as I have feebly by what
road Josephs had been goaded to death.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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