XXV
THE HONOR OF A FAMILY
Mr. Delamere's coachman, who, in accordance with instructions left by
Miller, had brought the carriage around to the jail and was waiting
anxiously at the nearest corner, drove up with some trepidation as he
saw his master emerge from the prison. The old gentleman entered the
carriage and gave the order to be driven to the office of the Morning
Chronicle. According to Jerry, the porter, whom he encountered at the
door, Carteret was in his office, and Mr. Delamere, with the aid of his
servant, climbed the stairs painfully and found the editor at his desk.
"Carteret," exclaimed Mr. Delamere, "what is all this talk about
lynching my man for murder and robbery and criminal assault? It's
perfectly absurd! The man was raised by me; he has lived in my house
forty years. He has been honest, faithful, and trustworthy. He would no
more be capable of this crime than you would, or my grandson Tom. Sandy
has too much respect for the family to do anything that would reflect
disgrace upon it."
"My dear Mr. Delamere," asked Carteret, with an indulgent smile, "how
could a negro possibly reflect discredit upon a white family? I should
really like to know."
"How, sir? A white family raised him. Like all the negroes, he has been
clay in the hands of the white people. They are what we have made them, or permitted them to become."
"We are not God, Mr. Delamere! We do not claim to have created
these--masterpieces."
"No; but we thought to overrule God's laws, and we enslaved these people
for our greed, and sought to escape the manstealer's curse by laying to
our souls the flattering unction that we were making of barbarous
negroes civilized and Christian men. If we did not, if instead of making
them Christians we have made some of them brutes, we have only ourselves
to blame, and if these prey upon society, it is our just punishment! But
my negroes, Carteret, were well raised and well behaved. This man is
innocent of this offense, I solemnly affirm, and I want your aid to
secure his safety until a fair trial can be had."
"On your bare word, sir?" asked Carteret, not at all moved by this
outburst.
Old Mr. Delamere trembled with anger, and his withered cheek flushed
darkly, but he restrained his feelings, and answered with an attempt at
calmness:--
"Time was, sir, when the word of a Delamere was held as good as his
bond, and those who questioned it were forced to maintain their
skepticism upon the field of honor. Time was, sir, when the law was
enforced in this state in a manner to command the respect of the world! Our lawyers, our judges, our courts, were a credit to humanity and civilization. I fear I have outlasted my epoch,--I have lived to hear of white men, the most favored of races, the heirs of civilization, the conservators of liberty, howling like red Indians around a human being slowly roasting at the stake."
"My dear sir," said Carteret soothingly, "you should undeceive yourself. This man is no longer your property. The negroes are no longer under our control, and with their emancipation ceased our responsibility. Their insolence and disregard for law have reached a point where they must be sternly rebuked."
"The law," retorted Mr. Delamere, "furnishes a sufficient penalty for
any crime, however heinous, and our code is by no means lenient. To my
old-fashioned notions, death would seem an adequate punishment for any
crime, and torture has been abolished in civilized countries for a
hundred years. It would be better to let a crime go entirely unpunished, than to use it as a pretext for turning the whole white population into a mob of primitive savages, dancing in hellish glee around the mangled body of a man who has never been tried for a crime. All this, however, is apart from my errand, which is to secure your assistance in heading off this mob until Sandy can have a fair hearing and an opportunity to prove his innocence."
"How can I do that, Mr. Delamere?"
"You are editor of the Morning Chronicle. The Chronicle is the leading
newspaper of the city. This morning's issue practically suggested the
mob; the same means will stop it. I will pay the expense of an extra
edition, calling off the mob, on the ground that newly discovered
evidence has shown the prisoner's innocence."
"But where is the evidence?" asked Carteret.