A Modern Tragedy (54 page)

Before she had shaped these thoughts to a clear pattern, there was a stir in court; the prisoners were brought in, the judge reentered; the jury returned ready to give their verdict.

Tasker was found guilty on all the charges, Walter on all but one. The two men were commanded to stand up, and asked whether they had anything to say why sentence should not be passed upon them; to this Walter said “No,” in a quiet clear tone, and Tasker shook his head.

The judge, in passing sentence upon Tasker, spoke of his misapplied ability, his appalling frauds. Tasker's intrigues were, he said, an almost intolerable abuse of the system of credit; and he pointed out that such methods, if allowed to continue in impunity, would not only destroy public confidence in commercial enterprise, but impair the general trust reposed by each man in his neighbour, the very foundation of society, the basis of all mutual good will.

Tasker was not listening to all this, though he preserved a decent appearance of doing so, for the sake of decorum; he felt tired and bored, and wished the affair well over—it had
gone on altogether too long already; his game was up for the present and everyone knew it; so why make such a fuss? His blue eyes roved restlessly about the court to see if anyone were present whom he knew—his own parents were absent on his request; and Walter had told him that he had asked his wife and sister not to come. In this comprehensive glance round the court Tasker saw Rosamond. She was looking straight at him, and her eyes were full of tears. “Good God!” thought Tasker, astounded: “That girl loves me!” Marian had often made this statement about Rosamond to him, but he had neither believed it nor been much interested in it—Marian was a jealous wife, and had often said that sort of thing to him before without much foundation; he cared little for women in any case, and Rosamond was not the type which appealed to him—he had always preferred something easier and more showy. But now in one swift glance he knew it was all true; that girl there, who was Walter's sister and had all Walter's candid ingenuous charm (he was fond of Walter) had come for him and was weeping for him; the tears in her beautiful eyes were for his sentence; she loved him. And suddenly Tasker desired Rosamond with passion. He saw all the fine things in life he had missed in the pursuit of wealth—a wife good and noble, whom he loved; children; a home; an honourable position in his native county; he would have sat on social welfare committees with Henry Clay Crosland, thought Tasker wistfully, and been asked to Clay Hall to dine. With Rosamond at his side he might have done anything, anything! He would have read books, and been on the right side of things, somehow, instead of always feeling uncomfortable, and jeering, when the things of the mind were mentioned. He pictured himself driving home to Rosamond at night; she would come out to meet him, with that frank noble smile of hers, welcome in her dark eyes, her face raised to receive his kiss, a child of his perhaps clinging to her skirts. The thought of it was so sweet that it was
quite intolerable. But it's not too late, thought Tasker hopefully, squaring his shoulders; I shall get three years, perhaps; well, what's three years? It will be over in no time—and she's quite young; I'll shorten the time by good conduct, and get out soon, and be divorced by Marian. She's well provided for and won't have any cause to grumble; I'll start again in business and make plenty yet for that girl and me; it won't be long.

At this moment the judge sentenced him to five years' penal servitude.

Five! thought Tasker; that's a long time; still, I can manage it. He turned cheerfully away, and began to descend the stairs from the dock; anxious to begin his sentence, find out facilities for sending a message to Rosamond; full of plans.

“Stay!” rang out the judge's voice in stern command.

Rather taken aback, Tasker returned to the bar; and received sentences on further charges of three and two years respectively.

Ten years! he thought; good God! I shall never do it. I shall be an old man when I come out. She won't wait. She'll leave Hudley and I shan't find her. I shall be too old to start again when I come out. I've lost her. I shall never have the kind of life I'd like.

He grasped the rail of the dock in front of him tightly, and stood erect and solid, his blue eyes gazing in front of him with their usual sardonic and lively air. But his cheerful unconcern was simulated; in reality he was daunted; something had broken in his heart.

Walter, whom the jury had recommended to mercy, received sentences of three and two years.

The two men were removed from the court in custody; they entered the windowless prison van, and soon found themselves in the bright echoing hell of gaol.

Rosamond went home alone.

FROM this height, as the bus swings round the corner and my native town comes into view, the industrial slopes of Hudley present a panorama at once magnificent and terrible; bristling with mill chimneys, black with buildings, pulsating with strident life, they roll down, folding in upon themselves, to the sombre valley, full of slums and mills and railway lines, which lies far below. Surely this scene represents man's triumph—and his failure; what he has done, and what yet remains for him to do. It is essentially modern, of to-day, contemporary; its face is towards the future; it is pregnant with human destiny; here, on this industrial battlefield, the fate of mankind is surely being prepared. For here men are linked, inter-connected, by economic processes, more closely than they have ever been before; this varied and teeming life that I am looking down on forms one great action; to this action each creature in the scene contributes, and it moulds the life of each. Two qualities mar this action and make it ugly; or perhaps the one brings forth the other; fear, and the lust for power. For surely Tasker's skill, his courage, his resource, his leadership; Henry Clay Crosland's tradition of public service; the steady good-humoured toil of Harry and Arnold; Walter's candid simple affection; the fierce noble enthusiasm of that man, the hunger-marchers' leader; Elaine's inspiring beauty—surely between them they might have saved the world! Instead of that, they all jostled each other in self-defensive roughness, each fearing the other and his own knowledge of that fear, each struggling to assert him-
self, to gain power, to impose his will; and the economic ill-health of our times intensified, exacerbated, these feelings, which in their turn helped to create economic disease. I too, the artist, who see each thing clear for what it is, and therefore neither dread fear nor need power, I too had something to offer to the general good, but none would receive it. And I can see that not till men have learned the mutual love which casts out fear can the economic problem be solved, and as long as it remains unsolved, fears will multiply.
Let no man seek his own, but every man another's, wealth
… It is here, here where the machines whirr and the smoke darkens the sky, here where man's mechanical achievement has put most power in his hands, here where we are most closely linked by the chain of economic cause and effect, here, in this complex but organic industrial community, palpitating with harsh vigorous modern life, here that the great experiment of fearless brotherhood would have most scope, and needs most to be tried.”

This electronic edition published in 2011 by Bloomsbury Reader
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Copyright 1934 by Phyllis Bentley
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ISBN: 9781448207947
eISBN: 9781448207701
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