Jacob Faithful. Фредерик Марриет
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thought little of it. The breakfast passed over, and the bell rang for school. We were all assembled; the Dominie walked in with a very magisterial air, followed by Mr. Knapps, who, instead of parting company when he arrived at his own desk, continued his course with the Dominie to his pulpit. We all knew that there was something in the wind; but of all, perhaps, I was the least alarmed. The Dominie unfolded his large handkerchief, waved it, and blew his nose, and the school was into profound silence. “Jacob Faithful, draw near,” said he, in a tone which proved that the affair was serious. I drew near, wondering. “Thou hast been accused by Mr. Knapps of caricaturing, and holding up to the ridicule of the school, me—thy master. Upon any other boy such disrespect should be visited severely; but from thee, Jacob, I must add in the words of Caesar, ‘Et tu Brute,’ I expected, I had a right to expect, otherwise. In se animi ingrati crimen vitia omnia condit. Thou understandest me, Jacob—guilty or not guilty?”
“Not guilty, sir,” replied I, firmly.
“He pleadeth net guilty, Mr. Knapps; proceed, then, to prove thy charge.”
Mr. Knapps then went to his desk, and brought out the drawings with which he had been supplied by Barnaby Bracegirdle and the other boys. “These drawings, sir, which you will please to look over, have all been given up to me as the performance of Jacob Faithful. At first I could not believe it to be true; but you will perceive, at once, that they are all by the same hand.”
“That I acknowledge,” said the Dominie; “and all reflect upon my nose. It is true that my nose is of large dimensions, but it was the will of Heaven that I should be so endowed; yet are the noses of these figures even larger than mine own could warrant, if the limner were correct, and not malicious. Still have they merit,” continued the Dominie, looking at some of them; and I heard a gentle cluck, cluck, in his throat, as he laughed at his own mis-representations. “Artis adumbratae meruit cum sedula laudem, as Prudentius hath it. I have no time to finish the quotation.”
“Here is one drawing, sir,” continued Mr. Knapps, “which proves to me that Jacob Faithful is the party; in which you and Mrs. Bately are shown up to ridicule. Who would have been aware that the candle went out in your study, except Jacob Faithful?”
“I perceive,” replied the Dominie, looking at it through his spectacles, when put into his hand, “the arcana of the study have been violated.”
“But, sir,” continued Mr. Knapps, “here is a more convincing proof. You observe this caricature of yourself, with his own name put to it—his own handwriting. I recognised it immediately; and happening to turn over his Cornelius Nepos, observed the first blank leaf torn out. Here it is, sir, and you will observe that it fits on to the remainder of the leaf in the book exactly.”
“I perceive that it doth; and am grieved to find that such is the case. Jacob Faithful, thou are convicted of disrespect and of falsehood. Where is Simon Swapps?”
“If you please, sir, may I not defend myself?” replied I. “Am I to be flogged unheard?”
“Nay, that were an injustice,” replied the Dominie; “but what defence canst thou offer? O puer infelix et sceleratus!”
“May I look at those caricatures, sir?” said I.
The Dominie handed them to me in silence. I looked them all over, and immediately knew them to be drawn by Barnaby Bracegirdle. The last particularly struck me. I had felt confounded and frightened with the strong evidence brought against me; but this re-assured me, and I spoke boldly. “These drawings are by Barnaby Bracegirdle, sir, and not by me. I never drew a caricature in my life.”
“So didst thou assert that thou couldst not draw, and afterwards provedst by thy pencil to the contrary, Jacob Faithful.”
“I knew not that I was able to draw when I said so; but I wished to draw when you supposed I was able—I did not like that you should give me credit for what I could not do. It was to please you, sir, that I asked for the pencil.”
“I wish it were as thou statest, Jacob—I wish from my inmost soul that thou wert not guilty.”
“Will you ask Mr. Knapps from whom he had these drawings, and at what time? There are a great many of them.”
“Answer, Mr. Knapps, to the questions of Jacob Faithful.”
“They have been given to me by the boys at different times during this last month.”
“Well, Mr. Knapps, point out the boys who gave them.”
Mr. Knapps called out eight or ten boys, who came forward. “Did Barnaby Bracegirdle give you none of them, Mr. Knapps?” said I, perceiving that Barnaby was not summoned.
“No,” replied Mr. Knapps.
“If you please, sir,” said I to the Dominie, “with respect to the leaf out of my Nepos, the Jacob Faithful was written on it by me on the day that you gave it to me; but the fecit, and the caricature of yourself, is not mine. How it came there I don’t know.”
“Thou hast disproved nothing, Jacob,” replied the Dominie.
“But I have proved something, sir. On what day was it that I asked you for the pencil to draw with? Was it not on a Saturday?”
“Last Saturday week, I think it was.”
“Well, then, sir, Mr. Knapps told you the day before that I could draw?”
“He did; and thou deniedst it.”
“How, then, does Mr. Knapps account for not producing those caricatures of mine, which he says he has collected for a whole month? Why didn’t he give them to you before?”
“Thou puttest it shrewdly,” replied the Dominie. “Answer, Mr. Knapps, why didst thou, for a fortnight at the least, conceal thy knowledge of his offence?”
“I wished to have more proofs,” replied the usher.
“Thou hearest, Jacob Faithful.”
“Pray, sir, did you ever hear me speak of my poor mother but with kindness?”
“Never, Jacob, thou hast ever appeared dutiful.”
“Please, sir, to call up John Williams.”
“John, Number 37, draw near.”
“Williams,” said I, “did you not tell me that Barnaby Bracegirdle had drawn my mother flaming at the mouth?”
“Yes, I did.”
My indignation now found vent in a torrent of tears. “Now, sir,” cried I, “if you believe that I drew the caricatures of you and Mrs. Bately—did I draw this, which is by the same person?” And I handed up to the Dominie the caricature of my mother, which Mr. Knapps had inadvertently produced at the bottom of the rest. Mr. Knapps turned white as a sheet.
The Dominie looked at the caricature, and was silent for some time. At last he turned to the usher.
“From whom didst thou obtain this, Mr. Knapps?”
Mr. Knapps replied in his confusion, “From Barnaby Bracegirdle.”
“It was but this moment thou didst state that thou hadst received none from Barnaby Bracegirdle. Thou hast contradicted thyself, Mr. Knapps. Jacob did not draw his mother; and the pencil is the same as that which drew the rest—ergo, he did not, I really believe, draw one of them. Ite procul fraudes. God, I thank thee, that the innocent have been protected. Narrowly hast thou escaped these toils, O Jacob—Cum populo et duce fraudulento. And now for punishment. Barnaby Bracegirdle, thou gavest this caricature to Mr. Knapps; from whence hadst thou it? Lie not.”
Barnaby turned red and white, and then acknowledged that the drawing was his own.
“You boys,” cried the Dominie, waving his rod which he had seized, “you gave these drawings to Mr. Knapps; tell me from whom they came.”
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