University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.
THE PLAN OF REVENGE.

As soon as the attorney made this discovery, he became very deeply
interested in what was going on; so much so, that he quite forgot
his boy, who was looking at him, as he crouched upon his knees,
with not a little wonder.

The height at which the attorney was above the lawyer was
fourteen feet,—a distance not too remote to prevent him from satisfying
himself that Mr. Satchell was “making foul play,” as he
afterwards expressed it, with the signatures of deeds, conveyances,
and vouchers. He distinctly saw him erase one name from a
parchment, and substitute another; and both names he was able to
read. He saw him alter dates, and do other acts that satisfied him
that he was engaged in unlawful altering and mutilating of papers,
the integrity of which was of the highest importance to the ward
whose guardian he was.

Having fully convinced himself that the lawyer was executing
bold forgeries, he rose from his knees, and, looking his surprised
office-boy in the face, told him to remain there while he went
below, and to let no one in. He then hastened down stairs, and
knocked at the door of Satchell's chamber. He listened, and could
hear a hurried gathering up of papers. He knocked again, but
there was no reply. He repeated the knock, and no answer was
returned. He peeped in at the key-hole, but saw that it was
stopped carefully with paper.

Satisfied that Satchell was in, this silence and precaution confirmed
him in his guilt, if he needed to be confirmed. He left the
door, and went into Mr. Manning's office, on the same floor, and
informed him of what he had discovered. George Manning, Esq.,
was then the District Attorney.

The result was, that the attorney openly, in full court, charged
Satchell with the crime of forgery, and in this manner:—Satchell
was retained for a defendant, and the attorney for the plaintiff.
When the case was called, the attorney rose and said, boldly, that
he begged leave to decline engaging in a cause where the opposite

party retained a forger as its counsel. Satchell was seen to turn
deadly pale, and, conscious of guilt for a moment, was confounded
both at the knowledge of his crime and its open exposure. The
bench and bar were amazed, and the whole court was excited.

“What do you mean, sir?” at length demanded Satchell, fixing
upon him a look of defiance.

“I mean,” answered the attorney “that I here openly in the face
of this court charged you with forgery. I have waited until this
time that I might know whether the deeds you forged would be
recorded by you as they were falsely executed. I have this morning
visited the records and find that you have recorded them as you
forged them. I now pronounce you a forger and I dare you to
deny the charge!”

“Are you ready to substantiate this accusation, sir?” asked the
judge of the attorney.

“I am, sir,” firmly responded the attorney. “And it is my
intention to enter prosecution in behalf of the heir whom by his
forgeries he would defraud out of her estate.”

“What have you to say to this, Mr. Satchell,” inquired the
judge, “it is true my question is informal and as you have not
been prosecuted you are at liberty to answer or not, or proceed with
your client's case.”

“I shall not proceed with it, sir! I shall leave the court, and
before I enter it again, I trust I shall be able, your honor, to vindicate
myself from this charge!” Satchell spoke quietly and like an
innocent man. He gathered up his papers, took his hat and walked
out of the court house. He left behind him the impression that he
was innocent and that the attorney had been precipitate.

But the next day the district attorney, Mr. Manning, prosecuted,
a bill having been found against him; although Satchell made an
able defence he was convicted, degraded from the profession by a
solemn resolution of the Bar, and was sentenced by the judge to a
year's imprisonment. Attributing, as he did, his conviction to the
eloquence and profound arguments of the district attorney, Mr. Manning,
his former hostility rankled deeper than ever in his heart;
and in the silence and solitude of his cell he meditated against him
the most finished vengeance.

But years passed by after his discharge before he could decide in
what manner he should effect his revenge upon the man he hated
above all men living. Murder he did not meditate, for to kill an
enemy he felt was not to be avenged upon him. He resolved that
when he meted out to him his revenge he should feel it, be conscious
of it, and suffer! To take away a man's life to punish him he
thought folly; and justly so, for how can a man be considered an
object of punishment or vengeance when he is dead? With life
ceases the power of his foe over him!

Therefore, Satchell devised some mode that should reach his
heart, not his life. Not a day of the eleven years which had
expired since he left his prison, had he suffered to pass without
meditating upon his vengeance; but so deep and thorough did he

mean that it should be, so above all other ordinary modes of
revenge, that he could not decide in what shape to effect his object.
A score of plans he had conceived of and half-resolved to execute,
but they fell far short of the broad limits of his hatred and he rejected
them. In the mean while he devoted his talents and profession
to the basest of uses. He became notorious as the “Rogues
Lawyer,” and walked abroad among honorable men, like Satan
among angels. Every one knew him and shunned him. He would
pass along from one end of a crowded street to the other, and no
eye met his in friendly recognition, no voice of friendship or of
acquaintance fell upon his ear. Yet all knew him, for he was a
marked man. The good would not notice him, the evil who knew
him and had had business with him feared to notice him, lest they
should be seen and importuned of being one of his clients.

Such was the man, Simmins Satchell, at the time that we introduce
him to the reader in his den of an office in the obscure alley in
the precincts of old Cornhill. A few weeks before this period, his
long brooding revenge had hatched a plan of vengeance, that seemed
to him to embrace all that his hatred of his enemy could desire to
compass.

George Manning, Esq., had now become a judge of the Supreme
court and stood at the very head of the bar as a profound jurist and
practical lawyer. For his elevation and virtues, Satchell, if this
could be possible, hated him the more. He had, at one time, conceived,
among others a plan for destroying this high character, by a
conspiracy to make him suspected of bribery in his official capacity;
but the difficulty of substantiating the fact, even by the false oaths
of certain criminals who had been acquitted, which he could have
obtained for money, led him to abandon this mode. At length his
fertile brain conceived a plan that astonished even himself for the
depth of its diabolical iniquity. It possessed the advantage over all
others which he had contemplated, of being a three-fold vengeance,
a barb, not only armed with one point but with three. The idea
came to his mind in the following manner:

About five weeks before the opening of our story, he was seated
in his office reading the morning paper. His door was locked as
usual and his room wore the same dark, dingy, chaotic aspect
which has already been described. He felt at the time in particularly
good spirits, for he had just learned from one of his emissaries
the success of a plan he had projected, for clearing a criminal by
means of an alibi. Four men, low shop keepers, properly schooled
by him had made oath to having seen the criminal and been with
him at the very time he was charged with having committed the
offence for which he was arraigned. This testimony was received,
and the criminal was acquitted. The fellow with the four false
witnesses, had just been in to pay their benefactor a call and report
their success; for securing which he received two hundred dollars.
This money now lay on the table by him exposed, as he used to
expose his silver, for though he loved money and had forged deeds
to enrich himself, yet he was careless of taking care of it as if it

possessed no value. He was in high good-humor at the success of
his alibi, and every now and then would wreathe his large under
lip into a smile of satisfaction as he thought of it. He went on
reading the paper by the light of a tallow candle, for it was an hour
after dark, when suddenly a deep exclamation burst from him in
the form of an oath, such an execration as a bad man gives vent to
on an occasion of sudden surprise and pleasure. He sprung from
his chair, made a gesture with his arm as if excited, then sat down
again and fixed his eyes intensely once more upon the paragraph,
which had so suddenly changed his whole manner. It was as
follows:

“We learn with pleasure, that the Rev. Mr. Edward Manning
has accepted the charge of — church in this city. Mr. Manning
is a young clergyman of great promise, commanding talents and
deep piety. His mind is of the highest order and accurately cultivated,
and few clerical gentlemen of the day surpass him in
elequence. He is a son of Judge Manning, and possesses his father's
fine talents as well as his excellencies of character. We congratulate
his parishioners upon their acquisition.”

“There is my man!” exclaimed Satchell with emphasis, his
face darkening while his eyes lighted up with the ball-fires of settled
hatred. “That is my man! I will strike at the father through
the son! No men are so open to calumny as the clergy! The least
breath that stirs not the hair upon the heads of those of other professions,
will be to them the sirocco blast, withering and fatal.
The hour of my joy has come at last! The mode of my revenge
is fixed! What good friend directed my eyes to this paragraph,
and then suggested, as it were by a flash of lightning, the scheme
of vengeance. Like Minerva, the thought has been brought forth
full armed and mature. I see it in all its bearings. My mind
grasps all its features. She who so madly loves him will aid me
heart and soul! Success is certain! My triumph will be complete
Were he other than a young clergyman I should hesitate! But a
man of God is vulnerable at all points. He is like a sensitive plant
that the least touch will cause to shrink. What happy
thought wrought this mode of vengeance into my brain. Eleven
long years have I been planning revenge against George Manning,
and now, all in an instant, as by inspiration, I have the mode before
me! I can reach him through his son! I know he is attached to
that young man, who is his only child, and to whom he will leave
his fortune. I know that he loves him with all a father's love, and
is proud of him with all a father's pride! My revenge is at hand!
Blessed little paragraph!”

He rose up and walked his room. His face was dropped towards
the floor as he paced to and fro in deep thought. His brows were
knitted and his whole manner that of a man who was mentally
planning some deep purpose.

At length he threw himself into his chair again, sat a few minutes
with his hand upon his forehead as if collecting his thoughts to a
focus, and then wrote a few lines, sealed and directed the note, took

his hat and cane and hastily left his room, locking the door behind
him and putting the key into his pocket.

Upon reaching the alley he turned to the left, crossed Cornhill,
descended through a steep passage by a flight of stone stairs and
emerged upon Brattle street. The night was very dark and cloudy,
but he found his way by the glimmer of the few far apart lamps in
that neighborhood, and moved along as rapidly as in noon-day.
Reaching Hanover street he crossed it a few rods down and entered
an obscure side street, in which stood a few old fashioned dwelling
houses, with large elms in the yards. Before one of these mansions
he stopped and opening the heavy gate walked up a short, paved
walk to the front door which stood under a portico.

The house had a respectable, ancient aspect, and looked as if in
olden times it had been the abode of one of the first families of the
town. It was three stories in height; the cornice and architrome
were elaborately moulded and enclosed a carved frieze. The yard
was spacious, and contained, besides two noble trees of great age,
several flowering shrubs and plants encircling a walk within the
fence. In the rear of a paved yard, stood with an imposing front a
range of stables and out-houses.

Over the gate-way was a lamp-frame, but the lamp was not a
light; but from the windows on the left shone through the foliage
of a jessamine the rays of a candle within.

The lawyer knocked at the door but once only, lifting its heavy
brazen knocker in the shape of a lion's claw. It was opened after
a few moments by an African girl, with a remarkably black complexion,
setting off features of singular deformity even for one of
her race.

“Is your master at home?”

“Yes,” she replied as if recognizing Satchell, but still holding
the door very close.

“Tell him I wish to see him!” as he spoke he pushed in by her
and stood in the large hall.

She went into the room on the left, and in a moment returned,
saying,

“Yiss, master say you pleas come in!”

The lawyer, who had been impatiently glancing his eyes round
upon the architectural ornaments of the cornice and bannisters of a
spacious stair case, crossed to the door which she held open for him,
and entered the room.

The negress immediately closed it after him and returned to his
kitchen where sat in tender waiting for her return, Handy, the
musical Boot-Black, who, be it here recorded was her accepted
lover, and she the “Rose” of his amorous ditty.