known as patriotism, or love of country. That, scorned the base insinuation. What did he live the lofty example of this immaculate and un- upon? His property. Where was his property? impeachable witness for the Crown, to refer to He didn't precisely remember where it was. whom, however unworthily, was an honor, had What was it? No business of any body's. Had communicated itself to the prisoner's servant, he inherited it? Yes, he had. From whom? and had engendered in him a holy determina- Distant relation. Very distant? Rather. Ever tion to examine his master's table-drawers and been in prison? Certainly not. Never in a pockets, and secrete his papers. That, he (Mr. debtors' prison? Didn't see what that had to do Attorney-General) was prepared to hear some with it. Never in a debtors' prison?-Come, disparagement attempted of this admirable once again. Never? Yes. How many times? servant; but that, in a general way, he pre- Two or three times. Not five or six? _Perhaps. ferred him to his (Mr. Attorney-General's) Of what profession? Gentleman. Ever been brothers and sisters, and honored him more kicked? Might have been. Frequently? No. than his (Mr. Attorney-General's) father and Ever kicked down stairs? Decidedly not; once mother. That, he called with confidence on received a kick on the top of a staircase, and fell the jury to come and do likewise. That, the down stairs of his own accord. Kicked on that evidence of these two witnesses, coupled with occasion for cheating at dice? Something to the documents of their discovering that would that effect was said by the intoxicated liar who be produced, would show the prisoner to have committed the assault, but it was not true. been furnished with lists of his Majesty's forces, Swear it was not true? Positively. Ever live and of their disposition and preparation, both by cheating at play? Never. Ever live by by sea and land; and would leave no doubt play? Not more than other gentlemen_do. that he had habitually conveyed such informa- Ever borrow money of the prisoner? Yes. Ever tion to a hostile Power. That, these lists could pay him? No. Was not this intimacy with the not be proved to be in the prisoner's handwrit-prisoner, in reality a very slight one, forced upon ing; but that it was all the same; that, indeed, the prisoner in coaches, inns, and packets? No. it was rather the better for the prosecution, as Sure he saw the prisoner with these lists? Cershowing the prisoner to be artful in his pre-tain. Knew any more about the lists? No. cautions. That, the proof would go back five Had not procured them himself, for instance? years, and would show the prisoner already en- No. Expect to get any thing by this evidence? gaged in these pernicious missions within a few weeks before the date of the very first action fought between the British troops and the Americans. That, for these reasons, the jury, being a loyal jury (as he knew they were), and being a responsible jury (as they knew they were), must positively find the prisoner Guilty, and make an end of him, whether they liked it or not. That, they never could lay their heads upon their pillows-that, they never could tolerate the idea of their wives laying their heads upon their pillows; that, they never could endure the notion of their children laying their heads upon their pillows; in short, that there never more could be, for them or theirs, any laying of heads upon pillows at all, unless the prisoner's head was taken off. That head Mr. Attorney-General concluded by demanding of them, in the name of every thing he could think of, with a round, round turn, and on the faith of his solemn asseveration that he already considered the prisoner as good as dead and gone. When the Attorney-General ceased, a buzz arose in the court as if a cloud of great blueflies were swarming about the prisoner in anticipation of what he was soon to become. When it toned down again, the unimpeachable patriot appeared in the witness-box. Mr. Solicitor-General then, following his leader's lead, examined the patriot: John Barsad, gentleman, by name. The story of his pure soul was exactly what Mr. Attorney-General had described it to be-perhaps, if it had a fault, a little too exactly. Having released his noble bosom of its burden, he would have modestly withdrawn himself, but that the wigged gentleman with the papers before him, sitting not far from Mr. Lorry, begged to ask him a few questions. The wigged gentleman sitting opposite still looked at the ceiling of the court. Had ked at of the court? No, he No. Not in regular government pay and employment to lay traps? Oh dear no. Or to do any thing? Oh dear no. Swear that? Over and over again. No motives but motives of sheer patriotism? None whatever. The virtuous servant, Roger Cly, swore his way through the case at a great rate. 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 he wanted a handy fellow, and the prisoner had engaged him. He had not asked the prisoner to take the handy fellow as an act of charity-never thought of such a thing. He began to have suspicions of the prisoner, and to keep an eye upon him, soon afterward. In arranging his clothes, while traveling, he had seen similar lists to these in the prisoner's pockets, over and over again. He had taken these lists from the drawer of the prisoner's desk. He had not put them there first. He had seen the prisoner show these identical lists 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, and had 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 be only a plated one. He had known the last witness seven or eight years; that was merely a coincidence. He didn't call it a particularly curious coincidence; most coincidences were curious. Neither did he call it a curious coincidence that true patriotism was his only motive too. He was a true Briton, and hoped there were many like him. The blue-flies buzzed again, and Mr. Attorney-General called Mr. Jarvis Lorry. "Mr. Jarvis Lorry, are you a clerk in Tellson's bank?" "I am." "On a certain Friday night in November one 1 thousand seven hundred and seventy-five, did business occasion you to travel between London and Dover by the mail?" "It did." 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 the staring curiosity that looked on could, for the mo "Were there any other passengers in the ment, nerve him to remain quite still. His mail?" "Two." hurried right hand parceled out the herbs before him into imaginary beds of flowers in a "Did they alight on the road in the course garden; and his efforts to control and steady his of the night ?" "They did." "Mr. Lorry, look upon the prisoner. Was he one of those two passengers ?" "I can not undertake to say that he was." "Does he resemble either of those two passengers ?" "Both were so wrapped up, and the night was so dark, and we were all so reserved, that I can not undertake to say even that." "Mr. Lorry, look again upon the prisoner. Supposing him wrapped up as those two passengers were, is there any thing in his bulk and stature to render it unlikely that he was one of them ?" "No." breathing shook the lips from which the color rushed to his heart. The buzz of the great flies was loud again. "Miss Manette, have you seen the prisoner before ?" "Yes, Sir." "Where?" "On board the packet-ship just now referred to, Sir, and on the same occasion." "You are the young lady just now referred to?" "Oh! most unhappily, I am!" The plaintive tone of her compassion merged into the less musical voice of the Judge, as he said, something fiercely: "Answer the questions put to you, and make no remark upon "You will not swear, Mr. Lorry, that he was them." not one of them ?" "I was returning from France a few days afterward, and, at Calais, the prisoner came on board the packet-ship in which I returned, and made the voyage 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 at that untimely hour?" "He happened to be the only one." "Never mind about 'happening,' Mr. Lorry. He was the only passenger who came on board in the dead of the night?" "He was." "Miss Manette, had you any conversation with the prisoner on that passage across the Channel?" "Yes, Sir." "Recall it." In the midst of a profound stillness she faintly began: "When the gentleman 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 her eyes lovingly to him as he stood beside her, "was much fatigued and in a very weak state of health. My father was so reduced that I was afraid to take him out of the air, and I had made a bed for him on the deck near the cabin steps, and I sat on the deck at his side to take care of him. There were no other passengers that night but we four. The prisoner was so good as to beg permission to advise me how I could shelter my father from the wind and weather better than I had done. I had not known how to do it well, not understanding how the wind would set when we were out of the harbor. He did it 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 speak together." "Let me interrupt you for a moment. Had he come on board alone?" "No." "How many were with him?” "They had conferred together until the last moment, when it was necessary for 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 what papers." "Like these in shape and size?" they stood at the top of the cabin steps to have the light of the lamp that was hanging there; it was a dull lamp, and they spoke very low, and I did not hear what they said, and saw only that they looked at papers." "Now to the prisoner's conversation, Miss Manette." "The prisoner was as open in his confidence with me-which arose out of my helpless situation-as he was kind, and good, and useful to my father. I hope," 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 give the evidence which it is your duty to give—which you must give-and which you can not escape from giving with great unwillingness, he is the only person present in that condition. Please to go on." "He told me that he was traveling on business of a delicate and difficult nature, which might get people into trouble, and that he was therefore traveling under an assumed name. He said that this business had, within a few days, taken him across, and might, at intervals, take him backward and forward between France and England for a long time to come." "Did he say any thing about America, Miss Manette? Be particular." They tell me so." "Have you no remembrance of the occasion ?" "None. My mind is a blank from some time -I can not even say what time-when I employed myself, in my captivity, in making shoes, to the time when I found myself living in London with my dear daughter here. She had become familiar to me, when a gracious God restored my faculties; but I am quite unable even to say how she had become familiar. I have no remembrance of the process." Mr. Attorney-General sat down, and the father and daughter sat down together. A singular circumstance then arose in the case. The object in hand being to show that the prisoner went down, with some fellow-plotter untracked, in the Dover mail on that Friday night in November five years ago, and got out of the mail in the night, as a blind, at a place where he did not remain, but from which he traveled back some dozen miles or more, to a garrison and dock-yard, and there collected information; a witness was called to identify him as having been at the precise time required, in the coffee-room of a hotel in that garrison-anddock-yard town, waiting for another person. The "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 En-prisoner's counsel was cross-examining this witgland's part. He added, in a jesting way, that perhaps George Washington might gain almost as great a name in history as George the Third. But there was no harm in his way 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 a scene of great interest to whom many eyes are directed, will be unconsciously imitated by the spectators. Her forehead was painfully anxious and intent as she gave this evidence, and, in the pauses when she stopped for the Judge to write it down, watched its effect upon the Counsel for and against. Among the lookers-on there was the same expression in all quarters of the court; insomuch that a great majority of the foreheads there might have been mirrors reflecting the witness, when the Judge looked up from his notes 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, Doctor Manette; 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 three years and a half, ago." "Can you identify him as your fellow-passenger on board the packet, or speak to his conversation with your daughter?" "Sir, I can do neither." "Is there any particular and special reason for your being unable to do either?" He answered, in a low voice, "There is." "Has it been your misfortune to undergo a ness with no result, except that he had never seen the prisoner on any other occasion, when the wigged gentleman, 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 it to him. Opening this piece of paper in the next pause, the counsel looked with great attention and curiosity at the prisoner. "You say again you are quite sure that it was the prisoner?" The witness was quite sure. "Did you ever see any body very like the prisoner?" Not so like (the witness said) as that he could be mistaken. "Look well upon that gentleman, my learned friend there," pointing to him who had tossed the paper over, "and then look well upon the prisoner. How say you? Are they very like each other?" Allowing for my learned friend's appearance being careless and slovenly, if not debauched, they were sufficiently like each other to surprise not only the witness, but every body present, when they were thus brought into comparison. My Lord being prayed to bid my learned friend lay aside his wig, and giving no very gracious consent, the likeness became much more remarkable. My Lord inquired of Mr. Stryver (the prisoner's counsel) whether they were next to try Mr. Carton (name of my learned friend) for treason? But Mr. Stryver replied to my Lord, no; but he would ask the witness to tell him whether what happened once might happen twice; whether he would have been so confident if he had seen this illustration of his rashness sooner; whether he would be so confident, having seen it; and more. The upshot of which was to smash this witness like a crock ery vessel, and shiver his part of the case to useless lumber. Mr. Cruncher had by this time taken quite a lunch of rust off his fingers in his following of the evidence. He had now to attend while Mr. Stryver fitted 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, an unblushing trafficker in blood, and one of the greatest scoundrels upon earth since accursed Judas-which he certainly did look rather like. How the virtuous servant, Cly, was his friend and partner, and was worthy to be; how the watchful eyes of those forgers and false swearers had rested on the prisoner as a victim, because some family affairs in France-he being of French extraction-did require his making those passages across the Channel: though what those affairs were, a consideration for others who were near and dear to him forbade him, even for his life, to disclose. How the evidence that had been warped and wrested from the young lady, whose anguish in giving it they had witnessed, came to nothing, involving the mere little innocent gallantries and politenesses likely to pass between any young gentleman and young lady so thrown together-with the ex ception of that reference to George Washington, which was altogether too extravagant and impossible to be regarded in any other light than as a monstrous joke. How it would be a weakness in the government to break down in this attempt to practice for popularity on the lowest national antipathies and fears, and therefore Mr. Attorney-General had made the most of it; how, nevertheless, it rested upon nothing, save that vile and infamous character of evidence too often disfiguring such cases, and of which the State Trials of this country were full. But there My Lord interposed (with as grave a face as if it had not been true), saying that he could not sit upon that Bench and suffer those allusions. Mr. Stryver then called his few witnesses, and Mr. Cruncher had next to attend while Mr. Attorney-General turned the whole suit of clothes Mr. Stryver had fitted on the jury inside out; showing how Barsad and Cly were even a hundred times better than he had thought them, and the prisoner a hundred times worse. Lastly, came My Lord himself, turning the suit of clothes, now inside out, now outside in, but on the whole decidedly trimming and shaping them into grave-clothes for the prisoner. 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. While his learned friend, Mr. Stryver, massing his papers before him, whispered with those who sat near, and from time to time glanced anxiously at the jury; while all the spectators moved more or less, and grouped themselves anew; while even My Lord himself arose from his seat, and slowly paced up and down his platform; not unattended by a suspicion in the minds of the audience that his state was feverish; this one man sat leaning back, with his torn gown half off him, his untidy wig put on just as it had happened to light on his head after its removal, his hands in his pockets, and his eyes on the ceiling as they had been all day. Something especially reckless in his demeanor, not only gave him a disreputable look, but so diminished the strong resemblance he undoubtedly bore to the prisoner (which his momentary earnestness, when they were compared together, had strengthened), that many of the lookers-on, taking note of him now, said to one another they would hardly have thought the two were so alike. Mr. Cruncher made the observation to his next neighbor, and added, "I'd hold half a guinea that he don't get no 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 he appeared to take in; for now, when Miss Manette's head dropped upon her father'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 Don't you see she will fall!" out. Jerry had just enough forehead to knuckle, and he knuckled it in acknowledgment 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 feels the better for being out of court." "I'll tell the prisoner so. It won't do for a respectable bank-gentleman like you to be seen speaking to him publicly, you know." Mr. Lorry reddened, as if he were conscious of having debated the point in his mind, and Mr. Carton made his way to the outside of the bar. The way out of court lay in that direction, and Jerry followed him, all eyes, ears, and spikes. "Mr. Darnay!" The prisoner came forward directly. "You will naturally be anxious to hear of the witness, Miss Manette. She will 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 for me, 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 toward him, "do you expect, Mr. Darnay ?" "The worst.' "It's the wisest thing to expect, and the likeliest. But I think their withdrawing is in your favor." Loitering on the way out of court not being allowed, Jerry heard no more; but left themso like each other in feature, so unlike each other in manner-standing side by side, both reflected in the glass above them. There was much commiseration for her as she was removed, and much sympathy with her father. It had evidently been a great distress to him to have the days of his imprisonment recalled. He had shown strong internal agitation when he was questioned, and that pondering or brooding look which made him old, 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 their fore-seated on a form after taking that refection, man. They were not agreed, and wished to retire. My Lord (perhaps with George Washington on his mind) showed some surprise that they were not agreed, but signified his pleasure that they should retire under watch and ward, and retired himself. The trial had lasted all day, and the lamps in the court were now being lighted. It began to be rumored that the jury would be out a long while. The spectators dropped off to get refreshment, and the prisoner withdrew to the back of the dock and sat down. Mr. Lorry, who had gone out when the young lady and her father went out, now reappeared, and beckoned to Jerry: who, in the slackened interest, could easily get near him. 66 'Jerry, if you wish to take something to eat, you can. But keep in the way. You will be sure to hear when the jury come in. Don't be a moment behind them, for I want you to take the verdict back to the bank. You are the quickest messenger I know, and will get to Temple Bar long before I can." An hour and a half limped heavily away in the thief-and-rascal-crowded passages below, even though assisted off with mutton pies and ale. The hoarse messenger, uncomfortably had dropped into a doze, when a loud murmur and a rapid tide of people getting up the stairs that led to the court carried him along with them. "Jerry! Jerry!" Mr. Lorry was already calling at the door when he got there. "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, as he turned, "I should have known what you meant this time." He had no opportunity of saying, or so much as thinking, any thing else, until he was clear of the Old Bailey; for the crowd came pouring out with a vehemence that nearly took him off his legs, and a loud buzz swept into the street, as if the baffled blue-flies were dispersing in search of other carrion. |