by Karen Joyce
“How could you have known? No one knew. You are not to blame,” she said, her eyes refocusing upon the room around her as his words brought her back. “And now he is gone. Though when he passed away, it took me a long time to believe that he was finally gone. Even now, there is a small part of me that still fears him, as if he never left, but, and in a way, he never will. He was all I knew for so long.” He remembered now Lady Madeline’s confession. Damn her, he thought to himself. Damn her for doing nothing when she had known. He wanted Fin to know the truth but then he knew it would cause her more pain and she had endured more than enough.
“Fin, I cannot undo what has been done by his cruel hand but it’s not too late. You must not lose heart. Your prince has finally come to rescue you. Soon you will be released and as God is my witness, when you are free, I swear to you, you will only know happiness and joy for all your days until the very last.”
“Rescued? No one can rescue me, Lincoln. I was condemned long before I was cast into this place where God does not hear our cries and I will remain here until there is nothing left of me but the fresh dirt upon my unmarked grave.”
“Fin, please, do not speak of such things. I speak the truth.”
“The truth? Your truth has shown itself to me and what truth it is, but lies attired in the finest of silk, embroidered with laced fringes of deceit. I do not want your truth,” she said, the tears welling in her eyes.
“Oh, Fin, please, forgive me. I can never take back the things I said but you must believe me. I have not failed you again. You will be free.”
“Lincoln, what are you saying? What have you done?”
“I have spoken to Mr Davenport and he has guaranteed me you will not be condemned for this crime.”
“How, Lincoln? How can he guarantee my release when I have not yet been tried? Lincoln, you must tell me what you have done?”
“We have made an agreement in exchange for your release.”
“What kind of agreement?”
“The Chartist’s members have presented a third petition to parliament calling for universal suffrage,” he began, as he looked around the cell searching for the right words, knowing there weren’t any that could justify the actions he had agreed to take to secure her release.
“I don’t understand, Lincoln. This petition, I know what it means to the people. What it means to you. What has Davenport asked of you?”
“He has asked me to accuse them of forgery.”
“Lincoln, this must not come to pass. The people need you more than ever,” she said, as she tightened her hands around the bars. “You must promise me.”
“And what of me? I need you. I cannot go on without you! I would do anything for you, Fin, anything…but you cannot ask this of me,” he said, as he placed his hands over hers, their faces inches apart. She lowered her head in silence. “Lincoln, I cannot allow you to do this. If you love me then you will promise me that you will not take this action.”
“Think of what you are asking, Fin. What it would mean?” he said, as Lady Delphinia closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them.
“I know,” she said, as the anger fell from her face.
“You’re asking me to do nothing while they take your life. It cannot be endured. I cannot live in a world bereft of you and what of you whose life has only just begun. There is still so much beauty in this world that you have not yet known and you deserve it more than any other.”
“Promise me…” she asked again, holding him with her stare. Lincoln shook his head in defiance of her request, overcome with the pain from the lacerations of her words upon his breaking heart and when he knew what must be done his limp body struggled to hold him, as he released his hands and fell to the floor at her feet. Lady Delphinia knelt down upon the floor and reached her hands through the bars to take his face in her hands and lift his head.
“I have spoken so unfairly to you, my dear Lincoln. For you have not only wounded me but have been the cure to heal my heavy heart. From the very first, I knew you would be the harbinger of both: love and hate, truth and lies, good and evil. For to know another the way I do, is to know all of them and a person is not only one shade and to see you the way you have shown yourself to me. To know the mercy of your love. We have seen heaven before our time and it could only have been borrowed time. Do you not see, my dear, dear Lincoln, time does not pass within one’s heart, it is still and those moments that have touched me live on, without end, within me, and I am grateful for what has come to pass. I cherish them dearly,” she said, as tears fell freely from her eyes. Lincoln looked up at her and reached out his hand to hold her cheek.
“Please do not cry, my love, my dear little Fin,” he said, as he kissed the falling tears upon her face.
“My tears are not shed in sadness, they are shed under the incredible weight of the beauty I have known. Not for what I have lost but for what has been gained. To know the beauty life has granted me, no matter the heartache, what fallen angel I have endured, it has given me life and it cannot die. The strength of your love will carry me through time into another where I will be waiting for you. Lincoln, we found each other once and we will find each other again,” she said, as she looked at him with a strength of character and fortitude of mind that could not be matched by the bravery of a thousand knights. Lincoln knew then that though she was standing behind those tall, steel bars, it was he who was imprisoned and she who was free. But in that small moment before he left her there behind those bars; for that single small moment when they had come together, everything else had melted away and there were no longer walls, no bars, for they had transcended the world and merged together into a new one where nothing could hurt them, not even death. Lady Delphinia stood then and helped him to rise from off the floor. She looked upon him now at the infinite, immeasurable pain of this moment upon his face.
“Life is so small and yet it weighs upon us so heavily. From the early, tender steps of our youth, the measure of the mark of all those that have passed us by like the relentless march of time is the measure of the ocean, the breadth of the heavens and the weight of the mountains. You must not mourn my death, Lincoln. Nothing stays the same. Nothing remains without change,” she said, as she reached out for his hands to hold.
“Your death will by my own for the sun has set upon my heart. Never again will it see the dawn of a new day. Every moment from this one will be lived in the dark. I love you Delphinia Iris Montague as no other has loved before and will ever love again…” And they stayed that way for what seemed an eternity between yesterday and whatever will come after all our tomorrows have come to an end. Now only the wind would hear the longing of their hearts that were once filled with such sweet, sweet promise whenever her smile had leapt with warmth into his heart, and he knew no matter how many days would follow, he would remain enslaved by the past, to forever languish within her cruel memory that would be more real to him than the moving flesh of all those that would remain.
When the time came for him to leave that place, anyone would have seen a man walking through the entrance and climbing into a carriage, but that man no longer walked within its shell. No longer felt his heart, nor breathed the air within his lung. For this man had become a shadow and his soul had been left behind within those walls with her. No matter how far he travelled from her that day, they were never apart. He was forever by her side in the silence around her; in the stillness within; in the beating of her heart. We have but a short time to live and his life had come and gone in each moment they had shared and now it had been laid to rest within the memory of her; to die upon her aching breast.
XXIV
Climbing from the carriage, Lincoln stood and looked upon the Palace of Westminster in all its majestic grandeur. He felt a higher purpose standing there and the words of David’s prayer rang though him: The Heathens themselves affirm, that no man is born without sin. If this is true, he asked the heavens above, then we must do everything within our power to find redemption. For no matter what sins man b
rings into this world, no child is born of evil; children are not devoid of innocence. The path to evil was not the true essence of man; it was a long and winding road, led by greed and vanity. Our lives are a series of interconnected moments and the choices we have made along the way. Lincoln understood now that the path to truth and righteousness was in every small action we make, in every slight word we speak. Every time we were faced with a choice, God was asking us to face the truth of who we are. For in every choice we made, we were being led closer and closer to the truth of who we would one day become. Lincoln had been making the wrong choices. All along he had believed that the end would justify the means, but that was folly. It was not a matter of good versus evil and taking sides. It was more complicated than Lincoln had ever understood it to be before. The fight was within us all; for all of us possessed good and evil; and we had to find that goodness within ourselves. Lest we are consumed by our own malevolence. Only then could we help each other. Lincoln knew no matter how long he continued to live upon this earth, he would live his life as honestly and truthfully as possible. No longer would he allow himself to be deceived by others. He would stand firm against all opposition. He would always follow his heart and do the right thing, no matter the sacrifice. To thine own self be true. These were the words he would live by.
Reluctant to enter into the sordid underbelly of Westminster, Lincoln took a deep breath and entered the central lobby where he passed through a corridor leading to the grand staircase that finally led him through the doors of the Lesser Hall. The tension among the near seven hundred members within the room was suffocating as the members of the House of Commons, whom were seated in the wooden side benches and cross benches of the legislature, awaited with bated breath to hear the findings of the special report by the Select Committee who had been ordered by the Russell government to examine the signatures of the third Chartist Petition. Lincoln took his seat amongst the other members of Lord Ashwood’s party: the 14th Earl of Derby, Lord Ashwood; the Earl of Ripon, Sir Frederick John Robinson; Sir James Graham; and the 5th Duke of Richmond, Sir Charles Gordon-Lennox. Looking about the room he saw these men not as the flesh of Christ but a thrombosis forming within the chamber of the heart of humanity and he could see it’s weeping wound bleeding through the cracks in the walls, laying thick and heavy in the stale air he breathed. As the meeting’s delay gnawed at these men’s patience, they began to grow restless. Their cawing sounds of apprehension and conjecture lending itself to the strained atmosphere within the room, which cast an ominous cloud upon the proceedings that would soon determine the fate of the nation. This great petition could save the lives of so many, though it stood with one foot in the grave there was still life breathing through its veins, as the murder of crows awaited the vultures they prayed would crack open the carcass of this nation, so they may feast upon it’s lifeless remains.
“It would be a lamentable day for history should this petition come to pass,” said Lord Ashwood, as the other members of his party nodded their heads in agreement.
“Imagine a petition for universal suffrage,” cried Sir Robinson, enraged by the very thought of such an outrageous action.
“With great power comes great responsibility,” said Sir Graham, “and I pray it is the estimation of the court that the people are not equipped with the agency to exercise power of this magnitude over their own affairs.”
“It is in a word, absurd,” added Lord Ashwood, as he packed his pipe with frustration over having to witness this deplorable spectacle.
“Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely,” said Lincoln, quoting the words of Shakespeare.
“Lincoln,” said Lord Ashwood, maintaining his composure, “you put me in a mind to believe that your allegiance lays elsewhere.”
“Do not fear men, for even if God has mercy upon this great nation and the petition does comes to pass, you can always take solace in the protection that is afforded by your wealth and affluence,” he replied, as he looked directly at Lord Ashwood. “And you more than any other will need protection for what you’ve done, for even God will not be able to save you.”
“Lincoln, what are the meaning of your words? I do not have to remind you of the dangers that are presented in their inference,” said Lord Ashwood, leaning in closer to ensure the seclusion of their exchange.
“Come now men,” said Lincoln, leaning forward to engage all the men of their party, “It is any wonder why my allegiance should be called into question when you yourselves are loyal only to the paper that lines your pockets.”
“What insolence,” said Gordon-Lennox, as he shook his head and felt ashamed that the walls of Westminster should bear witness to Lincoln’s words.
“Why I believe it was one of the money lenders of the Old World, Lord Mayer Amschel Rothschild whom proclaimed the following, Permit me to control a nation’s wealth and I care not who writes the laws.”
“I dare say your inflammatory statement is bordering on treason, Lincoln. Are you suggesting that our blessed Queen and Legislature are nothing but puppets placed upon the throne of England and their rule of this great empire is nothing but a farce? Explain yourself at once!” demanded Lord Ashwood, as he was engulfed by the smoke of his pipe as if he were being burnt alive at the stake.
“I no longer feel compelled to justify myself to you, nor anyone else and I refuse to continue with this charade. All of you know what you have done and will have to answer for it when the day of your reckoning is nigh,” said Lincoln, as he turned from them and focused his eyes upon the centre of the House.
“Hush men” spoke another member of the party seated in a row behind them as the session was called to order by the speaker wearing a curly, powdered wig and sitting in a gilded wooden chair surmounted by a canopy of state carved with the rose of England, the thistle of Scotland, the shamrock of Ireland and Queen Victoria’s monogram. The Chairman of the Committee, Mr Thornley brought up the special report from the Select Committee, crossing the inlaid, earthenware, green and white tiled floor to the clerk whom stood at the head of the Table of the House within the centre of the room, whereupon rested the Mace and the Great Seal. Though the roof had been temporarily replaced the remnants of this once great hall could be seen by the destroyed tapestries depicting the Spanish Armada that had once decorated the walls.
“The House, on the 26th of November last, directed your committee, in all cases, to set forth the number of signatures to each petition and also, having regard to the powers delegated to them, to report their opinion and observations thereupon to the House; and they have agreed to the following special report,” said the Clerk, addressing the members of the House. “That on the 10th of April last, a petition for universal suffrage from the inhabitants of the British Isles and subjects of the British Crown, was presented to the House.” The clerk continued on espousing the importance of exercising the privilege of the subjects of the realm and the preservation of that privilege from abuse in light of the numerous signatures. All the members of parliament were impatient to learn of the Committee’s findings, none more than the MP for Nottingham, Fergus O’Conner and the 15 ministers of parliament whom supported Fergus O’Conner’s petition seen by their rosettes of red, green and white – the colours of the Chartist’s convention for the presentation of the petition to the House.
After the ceremony of tradition had been discharged, the business of the Special Committee’s findings was finally addressed and Lincoln straightened his posture and held his breath in preparation of what was to come.
“The honourable Member for Nottingham, Feargus O’Connor stated, on presenting the petition, that 5,706,000 names were attached to it; but upon the most careful examination of the number of signatures in the Committee-room, the number of signatures has been ascertained to be 1,975,496 and it is the opinion of the Committee that there has been a gross abuse of the privilege,” said the Clerk, as a chorus of astonishment and a few shouts of outrage disturbed the tranquillity of the room.
/> “SWINDLER! ROGUE! HERETIC!”
“The Members of the House will return to order,” said the speaker, as he struck his gravel against a wooden sound block. “The Member for Nottingham, Mr O’Connor will now address the House,” he added, motioning for him to stand and take his place at the table.
“Speaker, I have strong collateral proof that the number of signatures to the petition had far exceeded what the Committee had reported to me,” he began, as he lifted the petition off the table of the House, “and without wishing to cast the slightest blame upon the Committee on Petitions, I move for a Committee to investigate that particular petition,” he said, throwing the petition down upon the Table, balking at the effrontery of the Committee Report as he returned to his seat. The room resounded again with howls of indignation by the enraged members of the House. Once again the speaker struck his gravel against the wooden sound block.
“ORDER! ORDER! The house will refrain from making any further disturbance amongst these proceedings,” he said, as he waited for the noise to subside. “The Chairman of the Committee, Mr Thornley will now address the House.”
“I assure the honourable and learned Gentleman, Mr O’Connor, that the petition in question has been received with all the respect due to a petition so very numerously signed, and if he might take the liberty of speaking of an individual so humble as myself, I would say, that there were points which the petitioners urged for the consideration of the House,” said Mr Thornley, as he ran his hands down the sides of his waistcoat and raised his head. He then proceeded to discuss the recorded weights of the petition at which he claimed was 53/4 hundred weights and then returned to his seat.
“The Member for Cirencester, Mr Cripps will now address the House,” said the speaker. Mr Cripps rose from his seat and approached the table to address Mr O’Connor.
“Mr O’Connor, I must raise an objection to the reflections you have made upon the committee…”