The ways of the hour

by James Fenimore Cooper

Although Mrs. Gott and John Wilmeter had very different ideas, at the bottom, of the requisites to form a lady, and the pronunciation of the good woman was by no means faultless, she cordially assented to the truth of the young man’s eulogy. Indeed, Mary Monson, for the hour, was her great theme; and, though still a young woman herself, and good looking withal, she really seemed never to tire of uttering her praises.

“She has been educated, Mr. Wilmeter, far above any female hereabout, unless it may be some of the ——s and ——s,” the good woman continued. “Those families, you know, are our upper crust—not upper ten thousand, as the newspapers call it, but upper hundred, and them ladies may know as much as Mary; but, beyond them, no female hereabouts can hold a candle to her! Her books have been brought in, and I looked them over—there isn’t more than one in three that I can read at all. What is more, they don’t seem to be all in one tongue, the foreign books, but in three or four!”

“She certainly has a knowledge of several of the living languages, and an accurate knowledge, too. I know a little of such things myself, but my friend Millington is quite strong in both the living and dead languages, and he says that what she knows she knows well.”

“That is comforting—for a young lady that can speak so many different tongues would hardly think of robbing and murdering two old people, in their beds. Well, sir, perhaps you had better go to the door and see her, though I could stay here and talk about her all day. Pray Mr. Wilmeter, which of the languages is really dead?”

John smiled, but civilly enlightened the sheriff’s lady on this point, and then, preceded by her, he went to the important door which separated the dwelling of the family from the rooms of the gaol. Once opened, an imperfect communication is obtained with the interior of the last, by means of a grating in an inner door. The gaol of Dukes county is a recent construction, and is built on a plan that is coming much into favour, though still wanting in the highest proof of civilization, by sufficiently separating criminals, and in treating the accused with a proper degree of consideration, until the verdict of a jury has pronounced them guilty.

The construction of this gaol was very simple. A strong, low, oblong building had been erected on a foundation so filled in with stones as to render digging nearly impossible. The floors were of large, massive stones, that ran across the whole building a distance of some thirty feet, or if there were joints, they were under the partition walls, rendering them as secure as if solid. The cells were not large, certainly, but of sufficient size to admit of light and air. The ceilings were of the same enormous flat stones as the floors, well secured by a load of stones, and beams to brace them, and the partitions were of solid masonry. There the prisoner is encased in stone, and nothing can be more hopeless than an attempt to get out of one of these cells, provided the gaoler gives even ordinary attention to their condition. Above and around them are erected the outer walls of the gaol. The last comprise an ordinary stone house, with roof, windows, and the other customary appliances of a human abode. As these walls stand several feet without those of the real prison, and are somewhat higher, the latter axe an imperium in imperio; a house within a house. The space between the walls of the two buildings forms a gallery extending around all the cells. Iron grated gates divide the several parts of this gallery into so many compartments, and in the gaol of Biberry care has been had so to arrange these subdivisions that those within any one compartment may be concealed from those in all of the others, but the two that immediately join it. The breezes are admitted by means of the external windows, while the height of the ceiling in the galleries, and the space above the tops of the cells, contribute largely to comfort and health in this important particular. As the doors of the cells stand opposite to the windows, the entire gaol can be, and usually is, made airy and light. Stoves in the galleries preserve the temperature, and effectually remove all disagreeable moisture. In a word, the place is as neat, convenient, and decent as the gaol of convicts need ever to be; but the proper sort of distinction is not attended to between them and those who are merely accused. Our civilization in this respect is defective. While the land is filled with senseless cries against an aristocracy which, if it exist at all, exists in the singular predicament of being far less favoured than the democracy, involving a contradiction in terms; against a feudality that consists in men’s having bargained to pay their debts in chickens, no one complaining in behalf of those who have entered into contracts to do the same in wheat; and against rent, while usury is not only smiled on, but encouraged, and efforts are made to legalize extortion; the public mind is quiet on the subject of the treatment of those whom the policy of government demands should be kept in security until their guilt or innocence be established. What reparation, under such circumstances, can be made to him to whom the gates are finally opened, for having been incarcerated on charges that are groundless? The gaols of the Christian world were first constructed by an irresponsible power, and to confine the weak. We imitate the vices of the system with a cool indifference, and shout “feudality” over a bantam, or a pound of butter, that are paid under contracted covenants for rent!

CHAPTER VII.

“Sir, this is the house; please it you, that I call?”

Taming of the Shrew.

The grated window which John Wilmeter now approached, commanded nearly an entire view of the gallery that communicated with the cell of Mary Monson. It also commanded a partial view of the cell itself. As he looked through the grates, he saw how neat and comfortable the last had been made by means of Mrs. Gott’s care, aided, doubtless, by some of the prisoner’s money—that gold which was, in fact, the strongest and only very material circumstance against her. Mrs. Gott had put a carpet in the cell, and divers pieces of furniture that were useful, as well as two or three that were intended to be ornamental, rendering the otherwise gloomy little apartment tolerably cheerful. The gallery, much to John’s surprise, had been furnished, also. Pieces of new carpeting were laid on the flags, chairs and table had been provided, and among other articles of this nature, was a very respectable looking-glass. Everything appeared new, and as if just sent from the different shops where the various articles were sold. Wilmeter fancied that not less than a hundred dollars had been expended in furnishing that gallery. The effect was surprising; taking away from the place its chilling, jail-like air, and giving to it, what it had never possessed before, one of household comfort.