有声名著之双城记
CHAPTER IIIA Disappointment
MR. ATTORNEY-GENERAL had to inform the jury, that the prisoner before them,though young in years, was old in the treasonable practices which claimedthe forfeit of his life. That this correspondence with the public enemy wasnot a correspondence of to-day, or of yesterday, or even of last year, or ofthe year before. That, it was certain the prisoner had, for longer thanthat, been in the habit of passing and repassing between France and England,on secret business of which he could give no honest account. That, if itwere in the nature of traitorous ways to thrive (which happily it neverwas), the real wickedness and guilt of his business might have remainedundiscovered. That Providence, however, had put it into the heart of aperson who was beyond fear and beyond reproach, to ferret out the nature ofthe prisoner's schemes, and, struck with horror, to disclose them to hisMajesty's Chief Secretary of State and most honourable Privy Council. That,this patriot would be produced before them. That, his position and attitudewere, on the whole, sublime. That, he had been the prisoner's friend, but,at once in an auspicious and an evil hour detecting his infamy, had resolvedto immolate the traitor he could no longer cherish in his bosom, on thesacred altar of his country. That, if statues were decreed in Britain, as inancient Greece and Rome, to public benefactors, this shining citizen wouldassuredly have had one. That, as they were not so decreed, he probably wouldnot have one. That, Virtue, as had been observed by the poets (in manypassages which he well knew the jury would have, word for word, at the tipsof their tongues; whereat the jury's countenances displayed a guiltyconsciousness that they knew nothing about the passages), was in a mannercontagious; more especially the bright virtue known as patriotism, or loveof country. That, the lofty example of this immaculate and unimpeachablewitness for the Crown, to refer to whom however unworthily was an honour,had communicated itself to the prisoner's servant, and had engendered in hima holy determination to examine his master's table-drawers and pockets, andsecrete his papers. That, he (Mr. Attorney-General) was prepared to hearsome disparagement attempted of this admirable servant; but that, in ageneral way, he preferred him to his (Mr. Attorney-General's) brothers andsisters, and honoured him more than his (Mr. Attorney-General's) father andmother. That, he called with confidence on the jury to come and do likewise.
That, the evidence of these two witnesses, coupled with the documents oftheir discovering that would be produced, would show the prisoner to havebeen furnished with lists of his Majesty's forces, and of their dispositionand preparation, both by sea and land, and would leave no doubt that he hadhabitually conveyed such information to a hostile power. That, these listscould not be proved to be in the prisoner's handwriting; but that it was allthe same; that, indeed, it was rather the better for the prosecution, asshowing the prisoner to be artful in his precautions. That, the proof wouldgo back five years, and would show the prisoner already engaged in thesepernicious missions, within a few weeks before the date of the very firstaction fought between the British troops and the Americans. That, for thesereasons, the jury, being a loyal jury (as he knew they were), and being aresponsible jury (as they knew they were), must positively find the prisonerGuilty, and make an end of him, whether they liked it or not. That, theynever could lay their heads upon their pillows; that, they never couldtolerate the idea of their wives laying their heads upon their pillows;that, they never could endure the notion of their children laying theirheads upon their pillows; in short, that there never more could be, for themor theirs, any laying of heads upon pillows at all, unless the prisoner'shead was taken off. That head Mr. Attorney-General concluded by demanding ofthem, in the name of everything he could think of with a round turn in it,and on the faith of his solemn asseveration that he already considered theprisoner as good as dead and gone.
When the Attorney-General ceased, a buzz arose in the court as if a cloudof great blue-flies were swarming about the prisoner, in anticipation ofwhat he was soon to become. When toned down again, the unimpeachable patriotappeared in the witness-box.
Mr. Solicitor-General then, following his leader's lead, examined thepatriot: John Barsad, gentleman, by name. The story of his pure soul wasexactly what Mr. Attorney-General had described it to be-perhaps, if it hada fault, a little too exactly. Having released his noble bosom of itsburden, he would have modestly withdrawn himself, but that the wiggedgentleman with the papers before him, sitting not far from Mr. Lorry, beggedto ask him a few questions. The wigged gentleman sitting opposite, stilllooking at the ceiling of the court.
Had he ever been a spy himself? No, he scorned the base insinuation. Whatdid he live upon? His property. Where was his property? He didn't preciselyremember where it was. What was it? No business of anybody's. Had heinherited it? Yes, he had. From whom? Distant relation. Very distant?
Rather. Ever been in prison? Certainly not. Never in a debtors' prison?
Didn't see what that had to do with it. Never in a debtors' prison?--Come,once again. Never? Yes. How many times? Two or three times. Not five or six?
Perhaps. Of what profession? Gentleman. Ever been kicked? Might have been.
Frequently? No. Ever kicked down-stairs? Decidedly not; once received a kickon the top of a staircase, and fell down-stairs of his own accord. Kicked onthat occasion for cheating at dice? Something to that effect was said by theintoxicated liar who committed the assault, but it was not true. Swear itwas not true? Positively. Ever live by cheating at play? Never. Ever live byplay? Not more than other gentlemen do. Ever borrow money of the prisoner?
Yes. Ever pay him? No. Was not this intimacy with the prisoner, in reality avery slight one, forced upon the prisoner in coaches, inns, and packets? No.
Sure he saw the prisoner with these lists? Certain. Knew no more about thelists? No. Had not procured them himself, for instance? No. Expect to getanything by this evidence? No. Not in regular government pay and employment,to lay traps? Oh dear no. Or to do anything? Oh dear no. Swear that? Overand over again. No motives but motives of sheer patriotism? None whatever.
The virtuous servant, Roger Cly, swore his way through the case at a greatrate. He had taken service with the prisoner, in good faith and simplicity,four years ago. He had asked the prisoner, aboard the Calais packet, if hewanted a handy fellow, and the prisoner had engaged him. He had not askedthe prisoner to take the handy fellow as an act of charity--never thought ofsuch a thing. He began to have suspicions of the prisoner, and to keep aneye upon him, soon afterwards. In arranging his clothes, while travelling,he had seen similar lists to these in the prisoner's pockets, over and overagain. He had taken these lists from the drawer of the prisoner's desk. Hehad not put them there first. He had seen the prisoner show these identicallists to French gentlemen at Calais, and similar lists to French gentlemen,both at Calais and Boulogne. He loved his country, and couldn't bear it, andhad given information. He had never been suspected of stealing a silver tea-pot; he had been maligned respecting a mustard-pot, but it turned out to beonly a plated one. He had known the last witness seven or eight years; thatwas merely a coincidence. He didn't call it a particularly curiouscoincidence; most coincidences were curious. Neither did he call it acurious coincidence that true patriotism was his only motive too. He was atrue Briton, and hoped there were many like him.
The blue-flies buzzed again, and Mr. Attorney-General called Mr. JarvisLorry.
`Mr. Jarvis Lorry, are you a clerk in Tellson's bank?'
`I am.'
`On a certain Friday night in November one thousand seven hundred andseventy-five, did business occasion you to travel between London and Doverby the mail?'
`It did.'
`Were there any other passengers in the mail?'
`Two.'
`Did they alight on the road in the course of the night?'
`They did.' #p#副标题#e#`Mr. Lorry, look upon the prisoner. Was he one of those two passengers?
`I cannot undertake to say that he was.'
`Does he resemble either of these two passengers?'
`Both were so wrapped up, and the night was so dark, and we were all soreserved, that I cannot undertake to say even that.'
`Mr. Lorry, look again upon the prisoner. Supposing him wrapped up as thosetwo passengers were, is there anything in his bulk and stature to render itunlikely that he was one of them?'
`No.'
`You will not swear, Mr. Lorry, that he was not one of them?'
`No.'
`So at least you say he may have been one of them?'
`Yes. Except that I remember them both to have been--like myself--timorousof highwaymen, and the prisoner has not a timorous air.'
`Did you ever see a counterfeit of timidity, Mr. Lorry?'
`I certainly have seen that.'
`Mr. Lorry, look once more upon the prisoner. Have you seen him, to yourcertain Knowledge, before?'
`I have.'
`When?'
`I was returning from France a few days afterwards, and, at Calais, theprisoner came on board the packet-ship in which I returned, and made thevoyage with me.'
`At what hour did he come on board?'
`At a little after midnight.'
`In the dead of the night. Was he the only passenger who came on board atthat untimely hour?'
`He happened to be the only one.'
`Never mind about "happening," Mr. Lorry. He was the only passenger whocame on board in the dead of the night?'
`He was.'
`Were you travelling alone, Mr. Lorry, or with any companion?'
`With two companions. A gentleman and lady. They are here.'
`They' are here. Had you any conversation with the prisoner?'
`Hardly any. The weather was stormy, and the passage long and rough, and Ilay on a sofa, almost from shore to shore.'
`Miss Manette!'
The young lady, to whom all eyes had been turned before, and were nowturned again, stood up where she had sat. Her father rose with her, and kepther hand drawn through his arm.
`Miss Manette, look upon the prisoner.'
To be confronted with such pity, and such earnest youth and beauty, was farmore trying to the accused than to be confronted with all the crowd.
Standing, as it were, apart with her on the edge of his grave, not all thestaring curiosity that looked on, could, for the moment, nerve him to remainquite still. His hurried right hand parcelled out the herbs before him intoimaginary beds of flowers in a garden: and his efforts to control and steadyhis breathing shook the lips from which the colour rushed to his heart. Thebuzz of the great flies was loud again.
`Miss Manette, have you seen the prisoner before?'
`Yes, sir.'
`Where?'
`On board of the packet-ship just now referred to, sir, and on the sameoccasion.'
`You are the young lady just now referred to?'
`O! most unhappily, I am.'
The plaintive tone of her compassion merged into the less musical voice ofthe Judge, as he said something fiercely: `Answer the questions put to you,and make no remark upon them.'
`Miss Manette, had you any conversation with the prisoner on that passageacross the Channel?'
`Yes, sir.'
`Recall it.'
In the midst of a profound stillness, she faintly began: `When thegentleman came on board'
`Do you mean the prisoner?' inquired the Judge, knitting his brows.
`Yes, my Lord.'
`Then say the prisoner.'
`When the prisoner came on board, he noticed that my father,' turning hereyes lovingly to him as he stood beside her, was much fatigued and in a veryweak state of health. My father was so reduced that I was afraid to take himout of the air, and I had made a bed for him on the deck near the cabinsteps, and I sat on the deck at his side to take care of him. There were noother passengers that night, but we four. The prisoner was so good as to begpermission to advise me how I could shelter my father from the wind andweather, better than I had done. I had not known how to do it well, notunderstanding how the wind would set when we were out of the harbour. He didit for me. He expressed great gentleness and kindness for my father's state,and I am sure he felt it. That was the manner of our beginning to speaktogether.'
`Let me interrupt you for a moment. Had he come on board alone?' #p#副标题#e#`No.'
`How many were with him?'
`Two French gentlemen.'
`Had they conferred together?'
`They had conferred together until the last moment, when it was necessaryfor the French gentlemen to be landed in their boat.'
`Had any papers been handed about among them, similar to these lists?'
`Some papers had been handed about among them, but I don't know whatpapers.'
`Like these in shape and size?'
`Possibly, but indeed I don't know, although they stood whispering verynear to me: because they stood at the top of the cabin steps to have thelight of the lamp that was hanging there; it was a dull lamp, and they spokevery low, and I did not hear what they said, and saw only that they lookedat papers.'
`Now, to the prisoner's conversation, Miss Manette.'
`The prisoner was as open in his confidence with me-which arose out of myhelpless situation-as he was kind, and good, and useful to my father. Ihope,' bursting into tears, `I may not repay him by doing him harm to-day.'
Buzzing from the blue-flies.
`Miss Manette, if the prisoner does not perfectly understand that you givethe evidence which it is your duty to give--which you must give--and whichyou cannot escape from giving--with great unwillingness, he is the onlyperson present in that condition. Please to go on.
`He told me that he was travelling on business of a delicate and difficultnature, which might get people into trouble, and that he was thereforetravelling under an assumed name. He said that this business had, within afew days, taken him to France, and might, at intervals, take him backwardsand forwards between France and England for a long time to come.'
`Did he say anything about America, Miss Manette? Be particular.'
`He tried to explain to me how that quarrel had arisen, and he said that,so far as he could judge, it was a wrong and foolish one on England's part.
He added, in a jesting way, that perhaps George Washington might gain almostas great a name in history as George the Third. But there was no harm in hisway of saying this: it was said laughingly, and to beguile the time.'
Any strongly marked expression of face on the part of a chief actor in ascene of great interest to whom many eyes are directed, will beunconsciously imitated by the spectators. Her forehead was painfully anxiousand intent as she gave this evidence, and, in the pauses when she stoppedfor the Judge to write it down, watched its effect upon the counsel for andagainst. Among the lookers-on there was the same expression in all quartersof the court; insomuch, that a great majority of the foreheads there, mighthave been mirrors reflecting the witness, when the Judge looked up from hisnotes to glare at that tremendous heresy about George Washington.
Mr. Attorney-General now signified to my Lord, that he deemed it necessary,as a matter of precaution and form, to call the young lady's father, DoctorManette. Who was called accordingly.
`Doctor Manette, look upon the prisoner. Have you ever seen him before?'
`Once. When he called at my lodgings in London. Some three years, or threeyears and a half ago.'
`Can you identify him as your fellow-passenger on board the packet, orspeak to his conversation with your daughter?'
`Sir, I can do neither.'
`Is there any particular and special reason for your being unable to doeither?'
He answered, in a low voice, `There is.'
`Has it been your misfortune to undergo a long imprisonment, without trial,or even accusation, in your native country, Doctor Manette?'
He answered, in a tone that went to every heart, `A long imprisonment.'
`Were you newly, released on the occasion in question?'
`They tell me so. `Have you no remembrance of the occasion?'
`None. My mind is a blank, from some time--I cannot even say what time--when I employed myself, in my captivity, in making shoes, to the time when Ifound myself living in London with my dear daughter here. She had becomefamiliar to me, when a gracious God restored my faculties; but, I am quiteunable even to say how she had become familiar. I have no remembrance of theprocess.'
Mr. Attorney-General sat down, and the father and daughter sat downtogether.
A singular circumstance then arose in the case. The object in hand being toshow that the prisoner went down, with some fellow-plotter untracked, in theDover mail on that Friday night in November five years ago, and got out ofthe mail in the night, as a blind, at a place where he did not remain, butfrom which he travelled back some dozen miles or more, to a garrison anddockyard, and there collected information; a witness was called to identifyhim as having been at the precise time required, in the coffee-room of anhotel in that garrison-and-dockyard town, waiting for another person. Theprisoner's counsel was cross-examining this witness with no result, exceptthat he had never seen the prisoner on any other occasion, when the wiggedgentleman who had all this time been looking at the ceiling of the court,wrote a word or two on a little piece of paper, screwed it up, and tossed itto him. Opening this piece of paper in the next pause, the counsel lookedwith great attention and curiosity at the prisoner.
`You say again you are quite sure that it was the prisoner?' The witnesswas quite sure. `Did you ever see anybody very like the prisoner?' Not solike (the witness said) as that he could be mistaken. `Look well upon thatgentleman, my learned friend there,' pointing to him who had tossed thepaper over, `and then look well upon the prisoner. How say you? Are theyvery like each other?'
Allowing for my learned friend's appearance being careless and slovenly ifnot debauched, they were sufficiently like each other to surprise, not onlythe witness, but everybody present, when they were thus brought intocomparison. My Lord being prayed to bid my learned friend lay aside his wig,and giving no very gracious consent, the likeness became much moreremarkable. My Lord inquired of Mr. Stryver (the prisoner's counsel),whether they were next to try Mr. Carton (name of my learned friend) fortreason? But, Mr. Stryver replied to my Lord, no; but he would ask thewitness to tell him whether what happened once, might happen twice; whetherhe would have been so confident if he had seen this illustration of hisrashness sooner, whether he would be so confident, having seen it; and more.
The upshot of which was, to smash this witness like a crockery vessel, andshiver his part of the case to useless lumber.
Mr. Cruncher had by this time taken quite a lunch of rust off his fingersin his following of the evidence. He had now to attend while Mr. Stryverfitted the prisoner's case on the jury, like a compact suit of clothes;showing them how the patriot, Barsad, was a hired spy and traitor, anunblushing trafficker in blood, and one of the greatest scoundrels uponearth since accursed Judas--which he certainly did look rather like. How thevirtuous servant, Cly, was his friend and partner, and was worthy to be; howthe watchful eyes of those forgers and false swearers had rested on theprisoner as a victim, because some family affairs in France, he being ofFrench extraction, did require his making those passages across the Channel--though what those affairs were, a consideration for others who were nearand dear to him, forbad him, even for his life, to disclose. How theevidence that had been warped and wrested from the young lady, whose anguishin giving it they had witnessed, came to nothing, involving the mere littleinnocent gallantries and politenesses likely to pass between any younggentleman and young lady so thrown together;--with the exception of thatreference to George Washington, which was altogether too extravagant andimpossible to be regarded in any other light than as a monstrous joke. Howit would be a weakness in the government to break down in this attempt topractise for popularity on the lowest national antipathies and fears, andtherefore Mr. Attorney-General had made the most of it; how, nevertheless,it rested upon nothing, save that vile and infamous character of evidencetoo often disfiguring such cases, and of which the State Trials of thiscountry were full. But, there my Lord interposed (with as grave a face as ifit had not been true), saying that he could not sit upon that Bench andsuffer those allusions.
Mr. Stryver then called his few witnesses, and Mr. Cruncher had next toattend while Mr. Attorney-General turned the whole suit of clothes Mr.
Stryver had fitted on the jury, inside out; showing how Barsad and Cly wereeven a hundred times better than he had thought them, and the prisoner ahundred times worse. Lastly, came my Lord himself turning the suit ofclothes, now inside out, now outside in, but on the whole decidedly trimmingand shaping them into grave-clothes for the prisoner. #p#副标题#e#And now, the jury turned to consider, and the great flies swarmed again.
Mr. Carton, who had so long sat looking at the ceiling of the court,changed neither his place nor his attitude, even in this excitement. Whilehis learned friend, Mr. Stryver, massing his papers before him, whisperedwith those who sat near, and from time to time glanced anxiously at thejury; while all the spectators moved more or less, and grouped themselvesanew; while even my Lord himself arose from his seat, and slowly paced upand down his platform, not unattended by a suspicion in the minds of theaudience that his state was feverish; this one man sat leaning back, withhis torn gown half off him, his untidy wig put on just as it had happened tolight on his head after its removal, his hands in his pockets, and his eyeson the ceiling as they had been all day. Something especially reckless inhis demeanour, not only gave him a disreputable look, but so diminished thestrong resemblance he undoubtedly bore to the prisoner (which his momentaryearnestness, when they were compared together, had strengthened), that manyof the lookers-on, taking note of him now, said to one another they wouldhardly have thought the two were so alike. Mr. Cruncher made the observationto his next neighbour, and added, `I'd hold half a guinea that he don't getno law-work to do. Don't look like the sort of one to get any, do he?'
Yet, this Mr. Carton took in more of the details of the scene than heappeared to take in; for now, when Miss Manette's head dropped upon herfather's breast, he was the first to see it, and to say audibly: `Officer!
look to that young lady. Help, the gentleman to take her out. Don't you seeshe will fall!'
There was much commiseration for her as she was removed, and much sympathywith her father. It had evidently been a great distress to him, to have thedays of his imprisonment recalled. He had shown strong internal agitationwhen he was questioned, and that pondering or brooding look which made himold, had been upon him, like a heavy cloud, ever since. As he passed out,the jury, who had turned back and paused a moment, spoke, through theirforeman.
They were not agreed, and wished to retire. My Lord (perhaps with GeorgeWashington on his mind) showed some surprise that they were not agreed, butsignified his pleasure that they should retire under watch and ward, andretired himself. The trial had lasted all day, and the lamps in the courtwere now being lighted. It began to be rumoured that the jury would be out along while. The spectators dropped off to get refreshment, and the prisonerwithdrew to the back of the dock, and sat down.
Mr. Larry, who had gone out when the young lady and her father went out,now reappeared, and beckoned to Jerry: who, in the slackened interest, couldeasily get near him.
`Jerry, if you wish to take something to eat, you can. But, keep in theway. You will be sure to hear when the jury come in. Don't be a momentbehind them, for I want you to take the verdict back to the bank. You arethe quickest messenger I know, and will get to Temple Bar long before Ican.'
Jerry had just enough forehead to knuckle, and he knuckled inacknowledgment of this communication and a shilling.
Mr. Carton came up at the moment, and touched Mr. Lorry on the arm.
`How is the young lady?'
`She is greatly distressed; but her father is comforting her, and she feelsthe better for being out of court.'
`I'll tell the prisoner so. It won't do for a respectable bank gentlemanlike you, to be seen speaking to him publicly, you know.'
Mr. Lorry reddened as if he were conscious of having debated the point inhis mind, and Mr. Carton made his way to the outside of the bar. The way outof court lay in that direction, and Jerry followed him, all eyes, ears, andspikes.
`Mr. Darnay!'
The prisoner came forward directly.
`You will naturally be anxious to hear of the witness, Miss Manette. Shewill do very well. You have seen the worst of her agitation.'
`I am deeply sorry to have been the cause of it. Could you tell her so forme, with my fervent acknowledgments?'
`Yes, I could. I will, if you ask it.'
Mr. Carton's manner was so careless as to be almost insolent. He stood,half turned from the prisoner, lounging with his elbow against the bar.
`I do ask it. Accept my cordial thanks.'
`What,' said Carton, still only half turned towards him, `do you expect,Mr. Darnay?'
`The worst.'
`It's the wisest thing to expect, and the likeliest. But I think theirwithdrawing is in your favour.
Loitering on the way out of court not being allowed, Jerry heard no more:
but left them--so like each other in feature, so unlike each other inmanner--standing side by side, both reflected in the glass above them.
An hour and a half limped heavily away in the thief-and-rascal crowdedpassages below, even though assisted off with mutton pies and ale. Thehoarse messenger, uncomfortably seated on a form after taking thatrefection, had dropped into a doze, when a loud murmur and a rapid tide ofpeople setting up the stairs that led to the court, carried him along withthem.
`Jerry! Jerry!' Mr. Lorry was already calling at the door when he gotthere.
`Here, sir! It's a fight to get back again. Here I am, sir!'
Mr. Lorry handed him a paper through the throng. `Quick! Have you got it?'
`Yes, sir!'
Hastily written on the paper was the word `ACQUITTED'.
`If you had sent the message, "Recalled to Life," again, muttered Jerry, ashe turned, `I should have known what you meant, this time.'
He had no opportunity of saying, or so much as thinking, anything else,until he was clear of the Old Bailey; for, the crowd came pouring out with avehemence that nearly took him off his legs, and a loud buzz swept into thestreet as if the baffled blue-flies were dispersing in search of othercarrion. |