Let us now turn to the dungeon which contained this ill-fated man. There, on a scanty supply of straw, a dim light glimmering through the bars of his cell, rendering the interior still more desolate, by revealing its wretchedness, lay Mitford—pale, emaciated, and bearing on his countenance the conviction, that the world and himself were now disjointed. Ever and anon the echoing wheels of some patrician chariot conveyed to his ear the mirth and gayety that reigned without. But what was all this to him? His heart was never more to beat at the sight of beauty; ambition could no longer convey elevation to his mind. A few short hours, and he must be brought forth to satisfy the stern severity of the law, and furnish food to the gaping curiosity of thousands. And was this to be the termination of his career? Was it for this a mother's holy tears had blessed his advent to the world?—that a father's toil had left him reposing amid the luxuries of wealth? All, all was now shortly to terminate in the scaffold's terrors, and worse than the scaffold's terrors, in the scaffold's shame.
While these thoughts passed through his mind, scalding tears coursed down his cheeks, moistening the straw on which he lay; not tears extracted by craven fear, but holy drops of penitence.
From this state of mind he was soon awakened by the reverend clergyman, whose duty it was to prepare him for his approaching awful change. He whispered to him the hope of divine mercy, so unquenchable that the most heinous offences failed to suppress it; that it was true he must suffer a public punishment, at once as an example, and an earthly atonement for his crime; but the benign Saviour of mankind had passed through all the ignominy of a public execution, with a resigned spirit, as an offering for the sins of others; and in virtue of that offering, he must himself hope for forgiveness, and suffer with resignation.
The holy man left Mitford more collected in mind, and resolved to submit to his inevitable fate with piety and courage.
The morning dawned. The fatal bell had struck; the scaffold had been erected; the gaping multitude, anxious for some horrid show to awaken their morbid sensibilities, clogged up in thousands every avenue to the sacrificial altar. Those whom the doom of the law had fixed that morning to be their last, stood upon the scaffold; but Mitford was not there; and the great unwashed, who had that day gone to enjoy the luxury of seeing a gentleman hung, returned disappointed of half the show.
The mystery must be solved. The betrothed of Mitford had forwarded a petition to the king, and another to the queen, requesting a commutation of punishment; but these documents had to pass through so many avenues of the palace, that they never reached the royal eye. Receiving no answer, and almost despairing of success, she flew to the Secretary of State.
Sir Robert Peel then filled the responsible situation of the Home Department. And here let us pause, to do justice to one of the greatest men of modern times; to one who, at no distant day, is destined to fill a large space in the world's eye. His father, sprung from the canaille, by the aid of the spinning-jenny, left his son in possession of one of the most ample fortunes, even in the wealthiest country in the world. The father, of rank tory principles, was farther recommended to royal notice, by the gift of twenty thousand pounds to carry on a war, which, however unpopular with the nation, a profligate ministry had induced that nation to believe its honor interested in prosecuting. The son was thus introduced to royal favor; and it is well known, that George the Third entertained great personal partiality for him. He commenced life as a statesman, having, in the outset of his political career, been inducted into the office of Under Secretary of State. His whole public life has been a life of office. His experience is thus greater than that of any man now living. Unfortunately, having commenced his career as an advocate for tory principles, his party have always pursued his leaning toward more liberal principles as a crime, while the more liberal party have always looked with suspicion on his aid, and viewed him as an enemy in their camp. As a debater, he is unrivalled; and if many surpass him in those burning and flowery sentences by which eloquence is distinguished, none equal him as a ready and always a sensible debater. But in our times, it unfortunately happens, that if a man commences his life by advocating bad principles, consistency forces him to adhere to them. The present world of politics, unlike the divine world to come, admits of no repentance. Once take your course in evil, you must adhere to it, if you wish to preserve your reputation. To change for the better, is certain perdition. Thus because Sir Robert Peel advocated Catholic emancipation, which he had all his previous life opposed, every contumelious epithet that rancor could invent, was hurled at him by his old friends; while the advocates of that measure viewed his accession to their ranks, not merely with distrust, as but a late convert, but with jealousy, as tending to rob them of some portion of the merit of carrying it on the very point of their success. And John Bull refused, from the hands of Sir Robert Peel and his colleagues, a greater measure of reform and retrenchment than even the original advocates held forth. Thus it is, a thief may reform, or become a useful member of society, if he will only amend; but a politician must look to nothing but consistency.
The fair Marguerite found no difficulty in gaining access to Sir Robert. Her beauty, her distress, her tale at once simple and affecting, all conspired to move him. He laid her petition and her woes at the foot of the throne. Majesty was pleased to find extenuating circumstances in Mitford's case, and a reprieve was granted to him.