Japhet in Search of a Father

“Perhaps then you will inform us by what means a diamond-ring and twenty pounds in money came into your possession?”

“Honestly, sir,” replied I.

“Will you state, as you are a poor countryman, with whom you worked last—what parish you belong to—and whom you can bring forward in proof of good character?”

“I certainly shall not answer those questions,” replied I: “if I chose I might so do, and satisfactorily.”

“What is your name?”

“I cannot answer that question either, sir,” replied I.

“I told you yesterday that we had met before; was it not at Bow Street?”

“I am surprised at your asking a question, sir, from the bench, to which, if I answered, the reply might affect me considerably. I am here in a false position, and cannot well help myself. I have no friends that I choose to call, for I should blush that they should see me in such a state, and under such imputations.”

“Your relations, young man, would certainly not be backward. Who is your father?”

“My father!” exclaimed I, raising up my hands and eyes. “My father! Merciful God!—if he could only see me here—see to what he has reduced his unhappy son,” and I covered my face and sobbed convulsively.

Part 3—Chapter V

By the committing of magisterial Mistakes I am personally and penally committed—I prepare for my Trial by calling in the Assistance of the Tailor and the Perfume—I am resolved to die like a Gentleman.

“It is indeed a pity, a great pity,” observed one of the magistrates, “such a fine young man, and evidently, by his demeanour and language, well brought up; but I believe,” said he, turning to the others, “we have but one course; what say you, Mr Norman?”

“I am afraid that my opinion coincides with yours, and that the grand jury will not hesitate to find a bill, as the case stands at present. Let us, however, ask the witness Armstrong one question. Do you positively swear to this young man being one of the persons who attacked you?”

“It was not very light at the time, sir, and both the men had their faces smutted; but it was a person just his size, and dressed in the same way, as near as I can recollect.”

“You cannot, therefore, swear to his identity?”

“No, sir; but to the best of my knowledge and belief, he is the man.”

“Take that evidence down as important,” said Mr Norman; “it will assist him at his trial.”

The evidence was taken down, and then my commitment to the county gaol was made out. I was placed in a cart, between two constables, and driven off. On my arrival I was put into a cell, and my money returned to me, but the ring was detained, that it might be advertised. At last, I was freed from the manacles; and when the prison dress was brought to me to put on, in lieu of my own clothes, I requested leave from the gaoler to wash myself, which was granted; and, strange to say, so unaccustomed had I been to such a state of filth, that I felt a degree of happiness, as I returned from the pump in the prison-yard, and I put on the prison dress almost with pleasure; for degrading as it was, at all events, it was new and clean. I then returned to my cell, and was left to my meditations.

Now that my examination and committal, were over, I became much more composed, and was able to reflect coolly. I perceived the great danger of my situation—how strong the evidence was against me—and how little chance I had of escape. As for sending to Lord Windermear, Mr Masterton, or those who formerly were acquainted with me, my pride forbade it—I would sooner have perished on the scaffold. Besides, their evidence as to my former situation in life, although it would perhaps satisfactorily account for my possession of the money and the ring, and for my disposing of my portmanteau—all strong presumptive evidence against me—would not destroy the evidence brought forward as to the robbery, which appeared to be so very conclusive to the bench of magistrates. My only chance appeared to be in the footpad, who had not escaped, acknowledging that I was not his accomplice; and I felt how much I was interested in his recovery, as well as in his candour. The assizes I knew were near at hand, and I anxiously awaited the return of the gaoler, to make a few inquiries. At night he looked through the small square cut out of the top of the door of the cell, for it was his duty to go his rounds and ascertain if all his prisoners were safe. I then asked him if I might be allowed to make a few purchases, such as pens, ink, and paper, etcetera. As I was not committed to prison in punishment, but on suspicion, this was not denied, although it would have been to those who were condemned to imprisonment and hard labour for their offences; and he volunteered to procure them for me the next morning. I then wished him a good night, and threw myself on my mattress. Worn out with fatigue and distress of mind, I slept soundly, without dreaming, until daylight the next morning. As I awoke, and my scattered senses were returning, I had a confused idea that there was something which weighed heavily on my mind, which sleep had banished from my memory. “What is it?” thought I; and as I opened my eyes, so did I remember that I, Japhet Newland, who but two nights before was pressing the down of luxury in the same habitation as Lady de Clare and her lovely child, was now on a mattress in the cell of a prison, under a charge which threatened me with an ignominious death. I rose, and sat on the bed, for I had not thrown off my clothes. My first thoughts were directed to Timothy. Should I write to him? No, no! why should I make him miserable? If I was to suffer, it should be under an assumed name. But what name? Here I was interrupted by the gaoler, who opened the door, and desired me to roll up my mattress and bed-clothes, that they might, as was the custom, be taken out of the cell during the day.

My first inquiry was, if the man who had been so much hurt was in the gaol.

“You mean your ’complice,” replied the gaoler. “Yes, he is here, and has recovered his senses. The doctor says he will do very well.”

“Has he made any confession?” inquired I.

The gaoler made no reply.

“I ask that question,” continued I, “because if he acknowledges who was his accomplice, I shall be set at liberty.”

“Very likely,” replied the man, sarcastically; “the fact is, there is no occasion for king’s evidence in this case, or you might get off by crossing the water; so you must trust to your luck. The grand jury meet to-day, and I will let you know whether a true bill is found against you or not.”

“What is the name of the other man?” inquired I.

“Well, you are a good ’un to put a face upon a matter, I will say. You would almost persuade me, with that innocent look of yours, that you know nothing about the business.”

“Nor do I,” replied I.

“You will be fortunate if you can prove as much, that’s all.”

“Still, you have not answered my question: what is the other man’s name?”

“Well,” replied the gaoler, laughing, “since you are determined I shall tell you, I will. It must be news to you, with a vengeance. His name is Bill Ogle, alias Swamping Bill. I suppose you never heard that name before?”

“I certainly never did,” replied I.

“Perhaps you do not know your own name? Yet I can tell it you, for Bill Ogle has blown upon you so far.”

“Indeed,” replied I; “and what name has he given to me?”

“Why, to do him justice, it wasn’t until he saw a copy of the depositions before the magistrates, and heard how you were nabbed in trying to help him off, that he did tell it; and then he said, ‘Well, Phill Maddox always was a true ’un, and I’m mortal sorry that he’s in for’t, by looking a’ter me.’ Now do you know your own name?”

“I certainly do not,” replied I.

“Well, did you ever hear of one who went by the name of Phill Maddox?”

“I never did,” replied I; “and I am glad that Ogle has disclosed so much.”

“Well, I never before met with a man who didn’t know his own name, or had the face to say so, and expect to be believed; but never mind, you are right to be cautious, with the halter looking you in the face.”

“O God! O God!” exclaimed I, throwing myself on the bedstead, and covering up my face, “give me strength to bear even that, if so it must be.”

The gaoler looked at me for a time. “I don’t know what to make of him—he puzzles me quite, certainly. Yet it’s no mistake.”

“It is a mistake,” replied I, rising; “but whether the mistake will be found out until too late, is another point. However, it is of little consequence. What have I to live for,—unless to find out who is my father?”

“Find out your father! what’s in the wind now? well, it beats my comprehension altogether. But did not you say you wished me to get you something?”

“Yes,” replied I; and I gave him some money, with directions to purchase me implements for writing, some scented wax, a tooth-brush, and tooth-powder, eau de cologne, hair-brush and comb, razors, small looking-glass, and various implements for my toilet.

“This is a rum world,” said the man, repeating what I asked for, as I put two guineas in his hand. “I’ve purchased many an article for a prisoner, but never heard of such rattletraps afore; however, that be all the same. You will have them, though what ho de colum is I can’t tell, nor dang me if I shall recollect—not poison, be it, for that is not allowed in the prison?”

“No, no,” replied I, indulging in momentary mirth at the idea; “you may inquire, and you will find that it’s only taken by ladies who are troubled with the vapours.”

“Now I should ha’ thought that you’d have spent your money in the cookshop, which is so much more natural. However, we all have our fancies;” so saying, he flitted the cell, and locked the door.

Part 3—Chapter VI

I am condemned to be hung by the Neck until I am dead, and to go out of the World without finding out who is my Father—Afterwards my Innocence is made manifest, and I am turned adrift a Maniac in the high Road.