Those venal, high-living men, whose flesh was overlaid in luxury, how
could they hope to understand the miracle that was about to occur? How
could the poor drab, cowering in the dock, whose life so ironically
had become the pretext for the first announcement of his genius, how
could she hope to understand that a new force was about to take its
walk in the world? How dismal, coarse, and sordid everything seemed!
Not a glimpse of light, beauty, or hope was anywhere to be discerned
in the whole of that crowded and suffocating room. The darkness and
horror which oppress us so much in the streets of a great city, all
the festering sores, all the blunt evils which discolor human nature
and conspire against its dignity, seemed to have congregated here.
The most cruel fact of human existence, the knowledge of man’s innate
imperfection, appeared to be concentrated, to be rendered visible in
this inferno in which every aperture was kept so close.
As soon as the judge returned into court, Mr. Weekes rose to address
the jury. Northcote sought sternly to curb his own impatience while the
trite voice of the counsel for the prosecution marshalled the array
of facts. They were so damning that they hardly called for comment.
None could dispute the tale that they told; and the Crown had no wish
to waste the time of the court by laboring the obvious. Reposing
an implicit confidence in the triumph of a virgin reason, that one
imperishable gift of nature to mankind, Mr. Weekes was yet able to
exhibit a profound sorrow for the terrible predicament of the accused,
and the awful alternative with which twelve of her countrymen were
confronted. But painful as was their duty, and painful as was his, it
was imposed upon them by the law. Mr. Weekes resumed his seat in the
midst of a deep and respectful silence, which indicated how crucial the
situation was to all, after having spoken for three-quarters of an hour.
The uninspired but adequate words of his opponent had galled Northcote
at first, so overpowering was his desire to rise at once and deliver
that utterance with which his whole being was impregnated. But as
perforce he waited and his ears were fed by the formal phrases of his
adversary, his nervous energy seemed to concentrate under the effort
of repression. And when at last a curious hush informed him that his
hour had arrived, which at a time less momentous would have unnerved
him altogether, and he rose to his feet, to such an extent was he
surcharged with emotion that at first he could not begin.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account