Paul Clifford — Complete
elements of mind remarkably congenial to his own; and this sympathy
was heightened by the hardihood of physical nerve and moral intrepidity
displayed by the prisoner,--qualities which among men of a similar mould
often form the strongest motive of esteem, and sometimes (as we read of
in the Imperial Corsican and his chiefs) the only point of attraction!
Brandon was, however, soon recalled to his cold self by a murmur of
vague applause circling throughout the common crowd, among whom the
general impulse always manifests itself first, and to whom the
opinions of the prisoner, though but imperfectly understood, came more
immediately home than they did to the better and richer classes of the
audience. Ever alive to the decorums of form, Brandon instantly ordered
silence in the court; and when it was again restored, and it was fully
understood that the prisoner's defence had closed, the judge proceeded
to sum up.
It is worthy of remark that many of the qualities of mind which seem
most unamiable in private life often conduce with a singular felicity
to the ends of public; and thus the stony firmness characteristic of
Brandon was a main cause which made him admirable as a judge,--for men
in office err no less from their feelings than their interests.
Glancing over his notes, the judge inclined himself to the jury, and
began with that silver ringing voice which particularly distinguished
Brandon's eloquence, and carried with it in high stations so majestic
and candid a tone of persuasion. He pointed out, with a clear brevity,
the various points of the evidence; he dwelt for a moment on the attempt
to cast disrepute upon the testimony of MacGrawler, but called a proper
attention to the fact that the attempt had been unsupported by witnesses
or proof. As he proceeded, the impression made by the prisoner on the
minds of the jury slowly melted away; and perhaps, so much do men soften
when they behold clearly the face of a fellow-man dependent on them
for life, it acted disadvantageously on the interests of Clifford, that
during the summing up he leaned back in the dock, and prevented his
countenance from being seen. When the evidence had been gone through,
the judge concluded thus:--
“The prisoner, who in his defence (on the principles and opinions of
which I now forbear to comment) certainly exhibited the signs of a
superior education, and a high though perverted ability, has alluded
to the reports circulated by the public Press, and leaned some little
stress on the various anecdotes tending to his advantage, which he
supposes have reached your ears. I am by no means willing that the
prisoner should be deprived of whatever benefit may be derivable from
such a source; but it is not in this place, nor at this moment, that it
can avail him. All you have to consider is the evidence before you. All
on which you have to decide is, whether the prisoner be or be not guilty
of the robbery of which he is charged. You must not waste a thought on
what redeems or heightens a supposed crime,--you must only decide on
the crime itself. Put away from your minds, I beseech you, all that
interferes with the main case. Put away also from your motives of
decision all forethought of other possible indictments to which the
prisoner has alluded, but with which you are necessarily unacquainted.
If you doubt the evidence, whether of one witness or of all, the
prisoner must receive from you the benefit of that doubt. If not,
you are sworn to a solemn oath, which ordains you to forego all minor
considerations,--which compels you to watch narrowly that you be not
influenced by the infirmities natural to us all, but criminal in you, to
lean towards the side of a mercy that would be rendered by your oath a
perjury to God, and by your duty as impartial citizens a treason to your
country. I dismiss you to the grave consideration of the important case
you have heard; and I trust that He to whom all hearts are open and all
secrets are known, will grant you the temper and the judgment to form a
right decision!”
There was in the majestic aspect and thrilling voice of Brandon
something which made the commonest form of words solemn and impressive;
and the hypocrite, aware of this felicity of manner, generally, as
now, added weight to his concluding words by a religious allusion or a
Scriptural phraseology. He ceased; and the jury, recovering the effect
of his adjuration, consulted for a moment among themselves. The foreman
then, addressing the court on behalf of his fellow-jurors, requested
leave to retire for deliberation. An attendant bailiff being sworn in,
we read in the journals of the day, which noted the divisions of time
with that customary scrupulosity rendered terrible by the reflection how
soon all time and seasons may perish for the hero of the scene, that “it
was at twenty-five minutes to two that the jury withdrew.”
Perhaps in the whole course of a criminal trial there is no period more
awful than that occupied by the deliberation of the jury. In the present
case the prisoner, as if acutely sensible of his situation, remained in
the rear of the dock, and buried his face in his hands. They who stood
near him observed, however, that his breast did not seem to swell with
the convulsive emotion customary to persons in his state, and that not
even a sigh or agitated movement escaped him. The jury had been absent
about twenty minutes, when a confused noise was heard in the court.
The face of the judge turned in commanding severity towards the quarter
whence it proceeded. He perceived a man of a coarse garb and mean
appearance endeavouring rudely and violently to push his way through
the crowd towards the bench, and at the same instant he saw one of the
officers of the court approaching the disturber of its tranquillity
with no friendly intent. The man, aware of the purpose of the constable,
exclaimed with great vehemence, “I vill give this to my lord the judge,
blow me if I von't!” and as he spoke he raised high above his head a
soiled scrap of paper folded awkwardly in the shape of a letter. The
instant Brandon's eye caught the rugged features of the intrusive
stranger, he motioned with rather less than his usual slowness of
gesture to one of his official satellites. “Bring me that paper
instantly!” he whispered.
The officer bowed and obeyed. The man, who seemed a little intoxicated,
gave it with a look of ludicrous triumph and self-importance.
“Stand avay, man!” he added to the constable, who now laid hand on his
collar. “You'll see vot the judge says to that 'ere bit of paper; and so
vill the prisoner, poor fellow!”
This scene, so unworthy the dignity of the court, attracted the notice
and (immediately around the intruder) the merriment of the crowd; and
many an eye was directed towards Brandon, as with calm gravity he opened
the note and glanced over the contents. In a large school-boy hand-it
was the hand of Long Ned--were written these few words:
MY LORD JUDGE,--I make bold to beg you will do all you can for the
prisoner at the barre, as he is no other than the “Paul” I spoke to
your Worship about. You know what I mean.
DUMMIE DUNNAKER.
As he read this note, the judge's head was observed to droop suddenly,
as if by a sickness or a spasm; but he recovered himself instantly, and
whispering the officer who brought him the note, said, “See that that
madman be immediately removed from the court, and lock him up alone. He
is so deranged as to be dangerous!”
The officer lost not a moment in seeing the order executed. Three stout
constables dragged the astounded Dummie from the court in an instant,
yet the more ruthlessly for his ejaculating,--
“Eh, sirs, what's this? I tells you I have saved the judge's hown
flesh and blood! Vy, now, gently, there; you'll smart for this, my fine
fellow! Never you mind, Paul, my 'arty; I 'se done you a pure good--”
“Silence!” proclaimed the voice of the judge; and that voice came forth
with so commanding a tone of power that it awed Dummie, despite his
intoxication. In a moment more, and ere he had time to recover, he
was without the court. During this strange hubbub, which nevertheless
scarcely lasted above two or three minutes, the prisoner had not once
lifted his head, nor appeared aroused in any manner from his revery; and
scarcely had the intruder been withdrawn before the jury returned.
The verdict was, as all had foreseen, “Guilty;” but it was coupled with
a strong recommendation to mercy.
The prisoner was then asked, in the usual form, whether he had to say
anything why sentence of death should not be passed against him.
As these dread words struck upon his ear, slowly the prisoner rose. He
directed first towards the jury a brief and keen glance, and his eyes
then rested full, and with a stern significance, on the face of his
judge.
“My lord,” he began, “I have but one reason to advance against the
sentence of the law. If you have interest to prevent or mitigate it,
that reason will, I think, suffice to enlist you on my behalf. I said
that the first cause of those offences against the law which brings me
to this bar was the committing me to prison on a charge of which I was
wholly innocent! My lord judge, you were the man who accused me of that
charge, and subjected me to that imprisonment! Look at me well, my lord,
and you may trace in the countenance of the hardened felon you are about
to adjudge to death the features of a boy whom, some seven years ago,
you accused before a London magistrate of the theft of your watch.
On the oath of a man who has one step on the threshold of death, the
accusation was unjust. And, fit minister of the laws you represent! you,
who will now pass my doom,--You were the cause of my crimes! My lord,
I have done. I am ready to add another to the long and dark list of
victims who are first polluted and then sacrificed by the blindness and
the injustice of human codes!”
While Clifford spoke, every eye turned from him to the judge, and every
one was appalled by the ghastly and fearful change which had fallen over
Brandon's face. Men said, afterwards, that they saw written there, in
terrible distinctness, the characters of death; and there certainly
seemed something awful and preternatural in the bloodless and haggard
calmness of his proud features. Yet his eye did not quail, nor the
muscles of his lip quiver; and with even more than his wonted loftiness,
he met the regard of the prisoner. But, as alone conspicuous throughout
the motionless and breathless crowd the judge and criminal gazed upon
each other, and as the eyes of the spectators wandered on each, a
thrilling and electric impression of a powerful likeness between the
doomed and the doomer, for the first time in the trial, struck upon the
audience, and increased, though they scarcely knew why, the sensation of
pain and dread which the prisoner's last words excited. Perhaps it might
have chiefly arisen from a common expression of fierce emotion conquered
by an iron and stern character of mind; or perhaps, now that the ashy
paleness of exhaustion had succeeded the excited flush on the prisoner's
face, the similarity of complexion thus obtained made the likeness more
obvious than before; or perhaps the spectators had not hitherto fixed so
searching, or, if we may so speak, so alternating a gaze upon the two.
However that be, the resemblance between the men, placed as they were in
such widely different circumstances,--that resemblance which, as we have
hinted, had at certain moments occurred startlingly to Lucy,--was plain
and unavoidably striking: the same the dark hue of their complexions;
the same the haughty and Roman outline of their faces; the same the
height of the forehead; the same even a displeasing and sarcastic