A Tale of Two Cities Read online

  III. A Disappointment

  Mr. Attorney-General had to inform the jury, that the prisoner beforethem, though young in years, was old in the treasonable practices whichclaimed the forfeit of his life. That this correspondence with thepublic enemy was not a correspondence of to-day, or of yesterday, oreven of last year, or of the year before. That, it was certain theprisoner had, for longer than that, been in the habit of passing andrepassing between France and England, on secret business of whichhe could give no honest account. That, if it were in the nature oftraitorous ways to thrive (which happily it never was), the realwickedness and guilt of his business might have remained undiscovered.That Providence, however, had put it into the heart of a person whowas beyond fear and beyond reproach, to ferret out the nature of theprisoner'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 andattitude were, on the whole, sublime. That, he had been the prisoner'sfriend, but, at once in an auspicious and an evil hour detecting hisinfamy, had resolved to immolate the traitor he could no longer cherishin his bosom, on the sacred altar of his country. That, if statueswere decreed in Britain, as in ancient Greece and Rome, to publicbenefactors, this shining citizen would assuredly have had one. That, asthey were not so decreed, he probably would not have one. That, Virtue,as had been observed by the poets (in many passages which he wellknew the jury would have, word for word, at the tips of their tongues;whereat the jury's countenances displayed a guilty consciousness thatthey knew nothing about the passages), was in a manner contagious; moreespecially the bright virtue known as patriotism, or love of country.That, the lofty example of this immaculate and unimpeachable witnessfor the Crown, to refer to whom however unworthily was an honour, hadcommunicated itself to the prisoner's servant, and had engendered in hima holy determination to examine his master's table-drawers and pockets,and secrete his papers. That, he (Mr. Attorney-General) was prepared tohear some disparagement attempted of this admirable servant; but that,in a general way, he preferred him to his (Mr. Attorney-General's)brothers and sisters, and honoured him more than his (Mr.Attorney-General's) father and mother. That, he called with confidenceon the jury to come and do likewise. That, the evidence of these twowitnesses, coupled with the documents of their discovering that would beproduced, would show the prisoner to have been furnished with lists ofhis Majesty's forces, and of their disposition and preparation, both bysea and land, and would leave no doubt that he had habitually conveyedsuch information to a hostile power. That, these lists could not beproved to be in the prisoner's handwriting; but that it was all thesame; that, indeed, it was rather the better for the prosecution, asshowing the prisoner to be artful in his precautions. That, the proofwould go back five years, and would show the prisoner already engagedin these pernicious missions, within a few weeks before the date of thevery first action fought between the British troops and the Americans.That, for these reasons, the jury, being a loyal jury (as he knew theywere), and being a responsible jury (as _they_ knew they were), mustpositively find the prisoner Guilty, and make an end of him, whetherthey liked it or not. That, they never could lay their heads upon theirpillows; that, they never could tolerate the idea of their wives layingtheir heads upon their pillows; that, they never could endure the notionof their children laying their heads upon their pillows; in short, thatthere never more could be, for them or theirs, any laying of heads uponpillows at all, unless the prisoner's head was taken off. That headMr. Attorney-General concluded by demanding of them, in the name ofeverything he could think of with a round turn in it, and on the faithof his solemn asseveration that he already considered the prisoner asgood as dead and gone.

  When the Attorney-General ceased, a buzz arose in the court as ifa cloud of great blue-flies were swarming about the prisoner, inanticipation of what he was soon to become. When toned down again, theunimpeachable patriot appeared 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, ifit had a fault, a little too exactly. Having released his noble bosomof its burden, he would have modestly withdrawn himself, but that thewigged gentleman with the papers before him, sitting not far from Mr.Lorry, begged to ask him a few questions. The wigged gentleman sittingopposite, still looking at the ceiling of the court.

  Had he ever been a spy himself? No, he scorned the base insinuation.What did he live upon? His property. Where was his property? He didn'tprecisely remember where it was. What was it? No business of anybody's.Had he inherited it? Yes, he had. From whom? Distant relation. Verydistant? 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 threetimes. Not five or six? Perhaps. Of what profession? Gentleman. Everbeen kicked? Might have been. Frequently? No. Ever kicked downstairs?Decidedly not; once received a kick on the top of a staircase, and felldownstairs of his own accord. Kicked on that occasion for cheating atdice? Something to that effect was said by the intoxicated liar whocommitted the assault, but it was not true. Swear it was not true?Positively. Ever live by cheating at play? Never. Ever live by play? Notmore 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 moreabout the lists? No. Had not procured them himself, for instance? No.Expect to get anything by this evidence? No. Not in regular governmentpay and employment, to lay traps? Oh dear no. Or to do anything? Oh dearno. Swear that? Over and over again. No motives but motives of sheerpatriotism? None whatever.

  The virtuous servant, Roger Cly, swore his way through the case at agreat rate. He had taken service with the prisoner, in good faith andsimplicity, four years ago. He had asked the prisoner, aboard the Calaispacket, 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 ofcharity--never thought of such a thing. He began to have suspicions ofthe prisoner, and to keep an eye upon him, soon afterwards. In arranginghis clothes, while travelling, he had seen similar lists to these in theprisoner's pockets, over and over again. He had taken these lists fromthe drawer of the prisoner's desk. He had not put them there first. Hehad seen the prisoner show these identical lists to French gentlemenat Calais, and similar lists to French gentlemen, both at Calais andBoulogne. He loved his country, and couldn't bear it, and had giveninformation. 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;that was 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. Hewas a true 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 andDover by 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."

  "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 asthose two passengers were, is there anything in his bulk and stature torender it unlikely 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--likemyself--timorous of highwaymen, and the prisoner has not a timorousair."

  "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 boardat that 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, andI lay 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, andkept her hand drawn through his arm.

  "Miss Manette, look upon the prisoner."

  To be confronted with such pity, and such earnest youth and beauty, wasfar more 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 allthe staring curiosity that looked on, could, for the moment, nerve himto remain quite still. His hurried right hand parcelled out the herbsbefore him into imaginary beds of flowers in a garden; and his effortsto control and steady his breathing shook the lips from which the colourrushed 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 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 voiceof the Judge, as he said something fiercely: "Answer the questions putto you, and make no remark upon them."

  "Miss Manette, had you any conversation with the prisoner on thatpassage across 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," turningher eyes lovingly to him as he stood beside her, "was much fatiguedand in a very weak state of health. My father was so reduced that I wasafraid to take him out of the air, and I had made a bed for him on thedeck near the cabin steps, and I sat on the deck at his side to takecare 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 couldshelter my father from the wind and weather, better than I had done. Ihad not known how to do it well, not understanding how the wind wouldset when we were out of the harbour. He did it for me. He expressedgreat gentleness and kindness for my father's state, and I am sure hefelt 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?"

  "Two French gentlemen."

  "Had they conferred together?"

  "They had conferred together until the last moment, when it wasnecessary 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 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 theyspoke very low, and I did not hear what they said, and saw only thatthey looked at papers."

  "Now, to the prisoner's conversation, Miss Manette."

  "The prisoner was as open in his confidence with me--which arose outof my helpless situation--as he was kind, and good, and useful to myfather. I hope," bursting into tears, "I may not repay him by doing himharm to-day."

  Buzzing from the blue-flies.

  "Miss Manette, if the prisoner does not perfectly understand thatyou give the evidence which it is your duty to give--which you mustgive--and which you cannot 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 travelling on business of a delicate anddifficult nature, which might get people into trouble, and that he wastherefore travelling under an assumed name. He said that this businesshad, within a few days, taken him to France, and might, at intervals,take him backwards and forwards between France and England for a longtime 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 saidthat, so far as he could judge, it was a wrong and foolish one onEngland's part. He added, in a jesting way, that perhaps GeorgeWashington might gain almost as great a name in history as George theThird. But there was no harm in his way of saying this: it was saidlaughingly, and to beguile the time."

  Any strongly marked expression of face on the part of a chief actor ina scene of great interest to whom many eyes are directed, will beunconsciously imitated by the spectators. Her forehead was painfullyanxious and intent as she gave this evidence, and, in the pauses whenshe stopped for the Judge to write it down, watched its effect uponthe counsel for and against. Among the lookers-on there was the sameexpression in all quarters of the court; insomuch, that a great majorityof the foreheads there, might have been mirrors reflecting the witness,when the Judge looked up from his notes to glare at that tremendousheresy about George Washington.

  Mr. Attorney-General now signified to my Lord, that he deemed itnecessary, as a matter of precaution and form, to call the young lady'sfather, 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, orthree years 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, withouttrial, 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 whattime--when I employed myself, in my captivity, in making shoes, to thetime when I found myself living
in London with my dear daughterhere. She had become familiar to me, when a gracious God restoredmy faculties; but, I am quite unable even to say how she had becomefamiliar. I have no remembrance of the process."

  Mr. Attorney-General sat down, and the father and daughter sat downtogether.

  A singular circumstance then arose in the case. The object in hand beingto show that the prisoner went down, with some fellow-plotter untracked,in the Dover mail on that Friday night in November five years ago, andgot out of the mail in the night, as a blind, at a place where he didnot remain, but from which he travelled back some dozen miles or more,to a garrison and dockyard, and there collected information; a witnesswas called to identify him as having been at the precise time required,in the coffee-room of an hotel in that garrison-and-dockyard town,waiting for another person. The prisoner's counsel was cross-examiningthis witness with no result, except that he had never seen the prisoneron any other occasion, when the wigged gentleman who had all this timebeen looking at the ceiling of the court, wrote a word or two on alittle piece of paper, screwed it up, and tossed it to him. Openingthis piece of paper in the next pause, the counsel looked with greatattention 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 anybody 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," pointingto him who had tossed the paper over, "and then look well upon theprisoner. How say you? Are they very like each other?"

  Allowing for my learned friend's appearance being careless and slovenlyif not debauched, they were sufficiently like each other to surprise,not only the witness, but everybody present, when they were thus broughtinto comparison. My Lord being prayed to bid my learned friend lay asidehis wig, and giving no very gracious consent, the likeness becamemuch more remarkable. My Lord inquired of Mr. Stryver (the prisoner'scounsel), whether they were next to try Mr. Carton (name of my learnedfriend) for treason? But, Mr. Stryver replied to my Lord, no; but hewould ask the witness to tell him whether what happened once, mighthappen twice; whether he would have been so confident if he had seenthis illustration of his rashness sooner, whether he would be soconfident, having seen it; and more. The upshot of which, was, to smashthis witness like a crockery vessel, and shiver his part of the case touseless lumber.

  Mr. Cruncher had by this time taken quite a lunch of rust off hisfingers 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 suitof clothes; showing them how the patriot, Barsad, was a hired spy andtraitor, an unblushing trafficker in blood, and one of the greatestscoundrels upon earth since accursed Judas--which he certainly did lookrather like. How the virtuous servant, Cly, was his friend and partner,and was worthy to be; how the watchful eyes of those forgers and falseswearers had rested on the prisoner as a victim, because some familyaffairs in France, he being of French extraction, did require his makingthose passages across the Channel--though what those affairs were, aconsideration for others who were near and dear to him, forbade him,even for his life, to disclose. How the evidence that had been warpedand wrested from the young lady, whose anguish in giving it theyhad witnessed, came to nothing, involving the mere little innocentgallantries and politenesses likely to pass between any young gentlemanand 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.How it would be a weakness in the government to break down in thisattempt to practise for popularity on the lowest national antipathiesand fears, and therefore Mr. Attorney-General had made the most of it;how, nevertheless, it rested upon nothing, save that vile and infamouscharacter of evidence too often disfiguring such cases, and of which theState 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 couldnot sit upon that Bench and suffer 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 andCly were even a hundred times better than he had thought them, and theprisoner a hundred times worse. Lastly, came my Lord himself, turningthe suit of clothes, now inside out, now outside in, but on the wholedecidedly 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 teamed friend, Mr. Stryver, massing his papers before him,whispered with those who sat near, and from time to time glancedanxiously at the jury; while all the spectators moved more or less, andgrouped themselves anew; while even my Lord himself arose from his seat,and slowly paced up and down his platform, not unattended by a suspicionin the minds of the audience that his state was feverish; this one mansat leaning back, with his torn gown half off him, his untidy wig puton just as it had happened to light on his head after its removal, hishands in his pockets, and his eyes on the ceiling as they had been allday. Something especially reckless in his demeanour, not only gave hima disreputable look, but so diminished the strong resemblance heundoubtedly bore to the prisoner (which his momentary earnestness,when they were compared together, had strengthened), that many of thelookers-on, taking note of him now, said to one another they wouldhardly have thought the two were so alike. Mr. Cruncher made theobservation to his next neighbour, and added, "I'd hold half a guineathat _he_ don't get no law-work to do. Don't look like the sort of oneto 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 uponher 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 out.Don't you see she will fall!"

  There was much commiseration for her as she was removed, and muchsympathy with her father. It had evidently been a great distress tohim, to have the days of his imprisonment recalled. He had shownstrong internal agitation when he was questioned, and that pondering orbrooding 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 amoment, spoke, through their foreman.

  They were not agreed, and wished to retire. My Lord (perhaps with GeorgeWashington 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 inthe court were now being lighted. It began to be rumoured that thejury would be out a long while. The spectators dropped off to getrefreshment, and the prisoner withdrew to the back of the dock, and satdown.

  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.

  "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. Youare the quickest messenger I know, and will get to Temple Bar longbefore I can."

  Jerry had just enough forehead to knuckle, and he knuckled it inacknowledgment of this communication and a shilling. Mr. Carton came upat 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 shefeels the 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 pointin his mind, and Mr. Carton made h
is way to the outside of the bar.The way out of court lay in that direction, and Jerry followed him, alleyes, ears, and spikes.

  "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 sofor 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 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 nomore: but left them--so like each other in feature, so unlike each otherin manner--standing side by side, both reflected in the glass abovethem.

  An hour and a half limped heavily away in the thief-and-rascal crowdedpassages below, even though assisted off with mutton pies and ale.The hoarse messenger, uncomfortably seated on a form after taking thatrefection, had dropped into a doze, when a loud murmur and a rapid tideof people setting up the stairs that led to the court, carried him alongwith them.

  "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 gotit?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Hastily written on the paper was the word "ACQUITTED."

  "If you had sent the message, 'Recalled to Life,' again," mutteredJerry, as he 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 outwith a vehemence that nearly took him off his legs, and a loud buzzswept into the street as if the baffled blue-flies were dispersing insearch of other carrion.