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Page 60
CHAPTER FOUR
THE DEAD-WARRANT ARRIVES FOR HEARTFREE; ON WHICH OCCASION WILD
BETRAYS SOME HUMAN WEAKNESS.
The dead-warrant, as it is called, now came down to Newgate for
the execution of Heartfree among the rest of the prisoners. And
here the reader must excuse us, who profess to draw natural, not
perfect characters, and to record the truths of history, not the
extravagances of romance, while we relate a weakness in Wild of
which we are ourselves ashamed, and which we would willingly have
concealed, could we have preserved at the same time that strict
attachment to truth and impartiality, which we have professed in
recording the annals of this great man. Know then, reader, that
this dead-warrant did not affect Heartfree, who was to suffer a
shameful death by it, with half the concern it gave Wild, who had
been the occasion of it. He had been a little struck the day
before on seeing the children carried away in tears from their
father. This sight brought the remembrance of some slight injuries
he had done the father to his mind, which he endeavoured as much
as possible to obliterate; but, when one of the keepers (I should
say lieutenants of the castle) repeated Heartfree's name among
those of the malefactors who were to suffer within a few days, the
blood forsook his countenance, and in a cold still stream moved
heavily to his heart, which had scarce strength enough left to
return it through his veins. In short, his body so visibly
demonstrated the pangs of his mind, that to escape observation he
retired to his room, where he sullenly gave vent to such bitter
agonies, that even the injured Heartfree, had not the apprehension
of what his wife had suffered shut every avenue of compassion,
would have pitied him.
When his mind was thoroughly fatigued, and worn out with the
horrors which the approaching fate of the poor wretch, who lay
under a sentence which he had iniquitously brought upon him, had
suggested, sleep promised him relief; but this promise was, alas!
delusive. This certain friend to the tired body is often the
severest enemy to the oppressed mind. So at least it proved to
Wild, adding visionary to real horrors, and tormenting his
imagination with phantoms too dreadful to be described. At length,
starting from these visions, he no sooner recovered his waking
senses, than he cryed out--"I may yet prevent this catastrophe. It
is not too late to discover the whole." He then paused a moment;
but greatness, instantly returning to his assistance, checked the
base thought, as it first offered itself to his mind. He then
reasoned thus coolly with himself:--"Shall I, like a child, or a
woman, or one of those mean wretches whom I have always despised,
be frightened by dreams and visionary phantoms to sully that
honour which I have so difficultly acquired and so gloriously
maintained? Shall I, to redeem the worthless life of this silly
fellow, suffer my reputation to contract a stain which the blood
of millions cannot wipe away? Was it only that the few, the simple
part of mankind, should call me a rogue, perhaps I could submit;
but to be for ever contemptible to the prigs, as a wretch who
wanted spirit to execute my undertaking, can never be digested.
What is the life of a single man? Have not whole armies and
nations been sacrificed to the honour of ONE GREAT MAN? Nay, to
omit that first class of greatness, the conquerors of mankind, how
often have numbers fallen by a fictitious plot only to satisfy the
spleen, or perhaps exercise the ingenuity, of a member of that
second order of greatness the ministerial! What have I done then?
Why, I have ruined a family, and brought an innocent man to the
gallows. I ought rather to weep with Alexander that I have ruined
no more, than to regret the little I have done." He at length,
therefore, bravely resolved to consign over Heartfree to his fate,
though it cost him more struggling than may easily be believed,
utterly to conquer his reluctance, and to banish away every degree
of humanity from his mind, these little sparks of which composed
one of those weaknesses which we lamented in the opening of our
history.
But, in vindication of our hero, we must beg leave to observe that
Nature is seldom so kind as those writers who draw characters
absolutely perfect. She seldom creates any man so completely
great, or completely low, but that some sparks of humanity will
glimmer in the former, and some sparks of what the vulgar call
evil will dart forth in the latter: utterly to extinguish which
will give some pain, and uneasiness to both; for I apprehend no
mind was ever yet formed entirely free from blemish, unless
peradventure that of a sanctified hypocrite, whose praises some
well-fed flatterer hath gratefully thought proper to sing forth.
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