The prisoner had used so many subterfuges to rivet attention, he became so thoroughly the lion of the day, that a profound feeling of sympathetic emotion prevailed when the Vulture delivered himself of the concluding speech for the prosecution.
“Gentlemen of the jury,” he said, “before I enter upon the details already submitted to your intelligent consideration, my duty commands me imperiously to put to you a question as grave as it is important. I ask you with feelings of the deepest grief and bitterest pain—I ask you, what is society coming to? In truth, gentlemen, turn where we will, look in which direction we may, we discover nothing but disorder—disorder, gentlemen, among quadrupeds, among bipeds, among geese, though they may use but one leg at a time. What we see is neither more nor less than symptoms of disorganisation, from bottom to top, from root to core. Yes, gentlemen, the social fabric is being undermined, the social body is corrupting; it totters to its fall, and fall it will, gentlemen, unless you are able to rear up a barrier which shall arrest its dreadful downward progress towards moral dissolution.”
The orator proceeded to view the crime in every possible light, showing how such atrocities were committed in ancient times, how they might be committed at any time by anybody, and how the guilt of this particular crime had been clearly brought home to the prisoner.
The counsel for the defence replied in an effective series of vigorous croaks, having first declared that in his opinion the finest spectacle on earth was that of innocence overtaken by misfortune.
At half-past twelve the jurors retired to a silent copse to deliberate, and soon returning, found the culprit guilty on all the charges of the indictment.
The judge touchingly inquired of the felon whether he had any objection to the sentence of death being passed upon him, to which the prisoner replied with a feeble grin.
“The Wolf is condemned to be hanged.”
The immense crowd remained gloomy and speechless, not a word, not even a bleat disturbed the scene, not a tail gave an involuntary wag. One would have imagined, when viewing all eyes bent on the Wolf, and all beaks hushed and dumb, that the assembly had been suddenly turned to stone, or that an electric shock had struck them all motionless for ever.
The Wolf was hanged this morning, gentlemen, and some zoophytes took good care to avail themselves of the opportunity for a demonstration in favour of the abolition of capital punishment. I confess that their arguments have little effect on me. I cannot conceive why they made so much fuss to save a wretch who destroyed his brother. It is to punish him more severely, they say, that they would permit him to live! How they deceive themselves! The convict always cherishes the consoling hope of being one day able to escape. It may be he will settle down contentedly to the undisturbed round of prison life. From a wretched outcast who gained a precarious subsistence by crime, he comes to take pleasure in his banishment. The burden of care has been lifted from his back. His wants are provided for by the State, and he need no longer dread the horrors of dying from hunger. The punishment inflicted has given him at last a recognised position in society.
If the penalty of death is to cease to be carried into effect, the nations of Europe, and the world at large, must commence by the abolition of war, for on the field of battle thousands of innocent lives are sacrificed as the penalty of the guilt or misgovernment of a single individual.