John de Lancaster: a novel; vol. III.Cumberland, Richard
General
John de Lancaster: a novel; vol. III.
Cumberland, Richard
Wales, North -- Fiction
When I see my family circle, he said, thus recruited by the return of my
former inmates, and graced with the accession of my new ones, I
experience a pleasurable conviction, that so long as Providence shall
indulge me with a capacity to enjoy these blessings, I should be, and I
am, devoutly thankful, although one member of our community has been
lately lost, and in the instance of the other, who is absent, I am
totally disappointed and defeated of all hope. To you, John De
Lancaster, my grandson, in whom I glory, I render thanks for the honour
you have conferred upon my name and family by your noble conduct in the
melancholy case of old Ap Rees’s daughter; and I am particularly
pleased, that your generous feelings for the injured did not betray you
into angry and intemperate personalities against the worthless wretch,
whom Heaven, not you, must call to his account. In his melancholy fate
we see an instance of the impolicy as well as the impiety of setting all
regard to character at defiance. The evil spirit hath not so
established his authority upon earth, that men will risque to be the
friends of him, who dares to be the foe of virtue. Innocence will not be
violated, nor justice braved and insulted with impunity. Where is there
one amongst all the favourites of fortune, to whom more happy
opportunities and brighter hopes of prosperity have been vouchsafed,
than to that young man, who is now become the object of our aversion and
contempt? What might he not have been? Alas, what is he now?
I should be at a loss, said the elder Wilson, to answer that question,
because I could not find words in the language to express his crimes:
but murder of the blackest cast is amongst them, so that methinks is one
item, which has a pretty good right to cry out in the catalogue. Were I
on his court-martial, I would hang him without mercy, and I think I
could almost find in my heart to be present at his execution.
Not you, not you, said Cecilia in an under-tone, and laid her gentle and
reproving hand upon his shoulder.
She is right, resumed De Lancaster; she knows you better than you know
yourself. I am persuaded you are no otherwise a friend to punishment but
as it tends to reformation; that is not the property of hanging. The
poor Irish criminal, who before he was turned off ingenuously declared
it should be a warning to him in future, materially mistook his own
case. Excision is no cure: I much doubt, if that dreadful process ought
to be resorted to in any instance.
Surely not, the colonel observed, except to save the body’s health:
with that view I myself submitted to the amputation of a limb.
Secure the community, De Lancaster rejoined, against further danger from
the obnoxious member, and let no man’s extinguishing decree deprive his
guilty fellow creature of a chance for repentance and atonement. Here,
if I mistake not, we may let the question rest, and relieve the ladies
present from a painful disquisition.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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