At War with Society; or, Tales of the Outcasts

by Rodrigues Ottolengui

  The Miniature.

  It is not often that I have had to deal with irregular criminals, bywhich I mean those that are not moulded and hardened in infancy andearly youth, but who, from some inherent weakness of nature have, by theforce of example, or the spur of unlawful gratifications, beenprecipitated--sometimes against the silent admonitions of their bettergenius--into a breach of the laws. I have said already that those whomMr Moxey used to call "abnormals" are comparatively few, and it is notdifficult to see how it should happen that their cases are the mostpainful exhibitions of misery that can be witnessed in this--to most, Ifear--very miserable world. In the normals the heart is all in one way.Seldom is there any conscience stirring to produce the terrors ofretribution; nay, the conscience is often completely reversed, so thatthe struggle of pain or anxiety, if it exists, is between the impulse ofselfishness and the check imposed by the restraining laws. If a regularthief is sorry for anything, it is for being detected before he hasenjoyed the fruit of his ingenuity or violence. There are only twopowers in opposition--self, and the world. God is not feared, simplybecause He is never thought of; religion has no sanction, because it isnot known. In the irregulars again, their heart is divided between Godand the devil. Yes, that's my blunt way of putting it. And we maynaturally look for some misery, I think, where the poor sensitive mindof the human creature is made the theatre of a contest between suchpowers.

  In September 1850, Mr M----o, solicitor in Regent Terrace, had his bankaccount in the National Bank operated upon by a forged cheque to theextent of L195. So far as I remember, the forgery was not discovered atthe time: nor did the startling intelligence come to him singly--atleast it did not remain long single, for there was a crop of minorfabrications that started up like lesser evils round a great one. Theforger, whoever he might be, had begun in a small way, as theseabnormals generally do--boggling at the first step, then another as theterror waned and the confidence increased, then another and another,till primed for the great leap at length taken. The small cheque-booksoften kept by gentlemen in the names of their children with the SavingsBank, for the purpose of inducing habits of care and economy, wereforged to the effect of abstracting such accumulations of the littledaughters as L3 10s., and thereby--small sums and small sufferers--andthen came the great feat on the great victim. How true a history of theprogress of vice--the sliding scale of crime; fear leading passion toprey upon the weak and helpless, and passion throwing off fear, to rushheadlong upon the strong!

  At first there was a great obscurity as to the depredator. It was with arecoil that Mr M----o thought of his clerks, until suspicion began tobe raised by the fact of the absence from the office of one of them, ofthe name of William L---- O----, who (as usual) seemed to be the verylast on whom the mind of a confiding master could fix as the author ofan act so treacherous, heartless, and cruel. The determination was atlength come to, that he should be secured, and the charge of doing sowas committed to me. I got my description, and how true it is thatalmost every case of the kind presents marks of personal aspect the veryreverse of those we would expect; nay, I would say that, with theexception of a _side look_, expressive of fear, there is nothing aboutthe face of a criminal that would imply either one thing or another asto the existence of tendencies towards even the _greater_ crimes. Hencethe common expressions, "Who would have supposed it?" "He was so unlikeit," and so forth; all perfectly true. I have seen a devil with the meekface of an infant not less often than I have witnessed the softness andsmoothness of infancy overlying nerves of steel leading topowder-pouches of fury and revenge. So be it; but I would not give avery long or very decided squint for all your fanciful expressions ofthis devilry or t'other; and so in this case. I had enough of marks;but I soon learned that I was now, or later, sure of my man, for Iascertained that, like most other novices, he had taken to drink, tokeep up his nerve and down his shame--a resource which throws asought-for personage into my hands the quickest of any. He had changedhis lodgings, and for a time I could only find traces of his fierypassage through taverns, as he flew, sometimes trembling with drink andhorror, from one to another, seeking from a fiend, whose gift isdelirium, that peace which can only be got from one who behind a roughprovidence hides a smiling face. His friends, who knew nothing of thecharge against him, told me that he had gone with the quickness of ashot into this wild life, and that they considered him mad. I knewotherwise. I deemed that his disease was not remorse, though all suchfits are placed to the account of that mysterious power; he was simplyunder the despair of terror, and as the impulse of fear is the quickestof all passions to take the wind out of a man, I had no doubt I wouldovertake him between the fiend's temple and the suicide's death-bed.

  Nor was my expectation long delayed. The search among the lodgings wasdifficult; he must have changed in lucid intervals, for he cleared awayso effectually all behind him, that no one could tell me where he nowlived. But at length I discovered his retreat. Placing a couple ofconstables at the foot of the stair for fear of a window-drop, Iascended to his room, at the door of which I placed my assistant. It wasnot a case for premonition by knocking, so I opened the door, which wasmerely on the lock-catch, and behold my sporter of the littleSavings-Bank portions! He was sitting at a table, with a glass andbottle before him; but I could mark from the state of the bottle thathis potations at this time had only commenced; nor was I blind to theconviction that the drink-fever was still careering through his veins;the old signs so familiar to me--the trembling hands--the flush--thetumid swellings at the top of the cheeks--the hare-brained eye, with itslightnings of fear.

  I doubt if he knew who I was, but he needed no personal knowledge of meto quicken an apprehension that responded, no doubt, to every movement,even to that of a mouse. The first look of me bound him to theeasy-chair,--not made for terror-ridden criminals these rests,--to whichhe fixed himself by hands grasping the soft cushioned arms; his mouthgaped quite open, so that I could even see his parched tongue, as itquivered like a touched jelly-fish, and his eye shot like a fox's whenthe hounds rush on him with their yell. I am not exaggerating--I doubtif any one can in such a case; at least all language appears to fall farshort in depicting the real state of a man in this young offender'sposition. Even the best describers in such cases are only botchers. Wesee only physical conditions,--mere palpable signs given in the flesh;nor know aught of the spirit, with its agonising recollections ofhome,--father, sisters, brothers,--hopes once entertained of asuccessful future to shed happiness upon them,--all blasted anddestroyed, and the only contrast a jail and ignominy.

  Yet amidst all this I had a calm part to play.

  "You are Mr William L---- O----?"

  "Yes."

  "You were clerk to Mr M----o, of the Regent Terrace?"

  As I uttered the words, I saw in an instant a change come over him, of akind I have often noticed in people merely nervous from temperament andnot drink. He clasped the arms of the chair more firmly, his tremblingceased as if in an instant, and his eye became steady. Yes, the energyof the instinct of self-preservation shot up through the drink-fever,confirmed his nerves, and prepared him for an onset. I have seen fearrun into firmness like the congelations of a liquid metal; but suchappearances, which I have learned to understand, never in any case shookmy suspicions.

  "Yes," replied he; "and what then?"

  "Not much," said I, "in so far as I am interested, but something in sofar as Mr M----o and his young daughters are concerned."

  "I have left his employment, and do not intend to go back," was theanswer, framed to avoid the main chance.

  "I am not going to take you back to _your_ office, but rather to takeyou up to _ours_, with a view to get some explanation of certainforgeries on the National and Savings Banks, perpetrated by some one."

  "Then _get_ that some one," said he, waxing firmer.

  "I am just going to take him," replied I, a little nettled, and takingout my handcuffs.

  The sight of these produced another effect, which may be said to beincons
istent with human nature. For my part, I don't know what humannature is, except just so far as I see it, and I never saw muchconsistency in it. The attempt to be firm, against the nervousnessproduced by his week's drunkenness, seemed to give way, as if suddenlylet loose by the opening of some unseen aperture, and the effort to saysomething strong was changed into a kind of hysterical laugh--somethinglike the cackle of a goose, and dying away into loud breathings. Thiswas the mere going down of the barometer; it got up again on the courageside.

  "I deny all knowledge of these forgeries," he cried.

  "Well," said I, "it will only put us to a little trouble in proving it.In the meantime, accept the handcuffs."

  To this I got no reply. He seemed to be struggling for stronger words ofdefiance, but they would not come at his bidding, and I heard nothingbut a jabber, which expressed nothing but determination. I called in myassistant, and while he lay back in the chair we put on thecuffs--observing, as I have done before, the clenched hand, with theperspiration in the act of oozing out between the rigid fingers. Can anyman imagine the fearful agony that could effect this, or the state ofthat conscience-riven and bursting heart?

  Having raised him up, a little bit of romance introduced itself intothis very prosaic affair, and, as it did not come out at the trial, wasnever known. He was standing by the side of a bureau, and suddenly hesnatched with his left hand a _miniature_ (that indispensableappurtenance of the romance-wrights), and placed it in his breast.

  "What is that?" said I.

  "The portrait of my mother," he said, and the tear stood in his eye.

  "Let me see it," said I, taking hold of it; and examining it, I foundthat he had told me what was false. It was the portrait of a youngwoman, not above twenty years of age, with long black ringlets--exceedinglybeautiful, of course--they all are in the velvet-coated case; but as Iam no despiser of a good face, I may admit she was really a faircreature,--ay, even as regards beauty, such a one as a man with more_love_ than _duty_ would even forge for.

  "Why," said I, "this is the portrait of a young lady. Why did you tellme a lie?"

  He paused for a moment. His heart got big, all his hardness had gone,and with a choking voice he said, "I don't want it to be known that shewas connected with me, or ever saw me. So for God's sake give it meback."

  I saw the impolicy of complying with this request, and put the miniaturein my waistcoat pocket.

  "No," said I, "you deny the forgery, and this face may lead me to awitness!"

  "Never!" he cried, "she is too innocent to know aught of evil."

  "Be it so," said I; "I will make no improper use of it, and whatever mayhappen, I promise to return it to you."

  With this he seemed satisfied,--and we took him up to the Office, wherehe was locked up in a cell, with but little light, and where, I fear, inthe dark hours he would see, in the magic lantern of a criminal's fancy,many more familiar faces than that of the mysterious original of theportrait. A mother's, at all events, would not fail to be illuminatedthere.

  Somewhat troublesome as the apprehension of this unfortunate young manhad been, it was far more easy than to procure the proper evidence tosupport an indictment. It turned out, to the annoyance of theauthorities, who had no doubt of his guilt, that the imitation of thehandwriting of Mr M----o was so skilfully executed, that the cheat wasalmost too much for the engravers. Forgery is, in this respect, apeculiar kind of crime. You may prove that the forger drew the money;but what then, if he was the person that ought to have drawn it for hismaster? Then, of whatever respectability the proprietor of the forgedname, he is only a witness on his own behalf. Suppose the imitation_inimitable_, where are you? Yet it is to be confessed that so fine acase seldom happens, so that what I have said about the devil's limp istrue here. It seems to be almost beyond the power of a human being towrite the name of another in all respects so like that it cannot bedetected, even although he has been in the practice of doing so severaltimes a-day for years. But what is still more wonderful, as I've beentold--for I am now speaking much from hearsay--it is even more difficultto imitate a rude and illiterate hand than a learned one; just as ifProvidence cared more for the poor, who cannot so well guard and protectthemselves against such attempts.

  The indictment was, however, prepared and served, and as the case wasnow more in the hands of the engravers, I had little to do with it; butI could not get quit of my portrait. There it was, still in my waistcoatpocket, just as if I had been some love-smitten swain, doing theromantic, notwithstanding my advanced years; so, thought I sometimes, ifI had dropt down dead, or hung myself on a tree, or thrown myself overthe Dean Bridge, as wiser men have done before me, what a story mighthave been founded on this miniature, and how appropriate for a woodcutstuck in front of my works! Doubtless some italic letters would havebeen in request by the printer:--"This great man hanged himself forlove. The object of his affections was never known, and must remain amysterious secret till that time when all things shall be revealed."

  But even such thoughts as these had passed away. One night I went homelate. I lighted my gas and sat down by the fire, in one of thosereveries which have always taken possession of me when alone; veryunlike other people's reveries, I suspect--for while these are occupiedabout catching money, or sweethearts, or fame, and sometimes the facesof departed friends, mine never had any other object than the catchingof men. From a dream of this kind, and far removed from the case of theyoung man O----, I heard my door open, and, looking up, saw before methe figure of a fine tall young woman, muffled up in a cloak, and with aveil drawn closely under her chin, and held there by a gloved hand. EvenI was amazed; for though I have had strange visitors, there was asomething about this one that I am not much in the habit of seeing, atleast within the walls of my humble dwelling--something of style andbreeding so much above my Bess M'Diarmids and my Jean Brashes, that Iwas put off my calculations as to character.

  "Are you Mr M'Levy?" said she, in a clear silvery voice.

  "Ay, ma'am, at your service."

  "It was you, I think, who apprehended the unfortunate young man, MrL---- O----?"

  "Yes."

  "When you took him away from his lodgings, did you see about him theminiature of a young female?"

  "Yes," replied I; and here my practical character began to shew signs ofactivity. I suspected my mysterious visitor had under her veil the fairface from which that miniature had been painted, and my detectiveinstincts carried my hand to my waistcoat pocket.

  "Now, my young lady," said I, "we have a peculiar curiosity aboutconcealed things. If you will shew me your face, I will tell you whetherthis miniature I hold in my hand is the one you are inquiring after."

  "That I dare not do," replied she, with a tremble.

  "Then I cannot shew you the picture," said I.

  "Would money move you?" said she.

  "Not unless gold could cut or dissolve steel," replied I.

  "Ah, then, I am miserable indeed!" she said. "I would not for the wholeworld that my friends, who are of rank, should know that the miniatureof their relative had been found in the possession of a forger."

  "I see no occasion for that coming out," said I; "the picture is of nouse at the trial, and I can prevent every chance of such a circumstanceobtaining publicity."

  "Oh, Heaven bless you for the words!" she cried. "Can I trust you?"

  "Yes," said I; but becoming again official, and not relishing the ideaof being _done_ by a female, I could not help adding, "But if you canhave faith in my promise as regards the _picture_, why do you doubt meas respects the _original_?"

  "I cannot--I dare not," she ejaculated, as she held the veil morefirmly. "Adieu! I trust to your pity for one who truly deservescompassion."

  And my mysterious visitor departed. I never heard or saw more of her;but I have since frequently thought of that lovely face, as portrayed nodoubt truthfully in the miniature, and formed numerous conjectures:--thedisappointed hopes, it might be, of early affection,--the bleedingheart, brooding in secret o
ver the shame of such a connexion,--or,stranger still, the misplaced sympathy of a woman's love clinging withmistaken tenacity to the unworthy object, notwithstanding thedisgraceful crime of which he had been convicted,--these and many othershave often passed across my mind as the mysterious visit occurred to me.Nor is it possible to contemplate this affair without wondering at thefatality of the youth, with beauty if not rank in his power, and yetpreying on the portions of children.

  I have only to add, in conclusion, that the unfortunate young man wasfound guilty, and sentenced to fourteen years' transportation,--a lifeof misery entailed, and everything worth living for obscured andforfeited, by the unprincipled and criminal desire of display andprodigality. What a lesson for those holding confidential positionsagainst listening for a moment to the insidious wiles of the tempter!