They said of him, about the city that night, that it was the
peacefulest man's face ever beheld there. Many added that he looked
sublime and prophetic.
[Footnote 27: The conclusion of "A Tale of Two Cities."]
One of the most remarkable sufferers by the same ax--a woman--had
asked at the foot of the same scaffold, not long before, to be allowed
to write down the thoughts that were inspiring her. If he had given
any utterance to his, and they were prophetic, they would have been
these:
"I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, the Vengeance, the Juryman, the
Judge, long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the
destruction of the old, perishing by his retributive instrument,
before it shall cease out of its present use. I see a beautiful city
and a brilliant people rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles
to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long, long
years to come, I see the evil of this time and, of the previous time
of which this is the natural birth, gradually making expiation for
itself and wearing out.
"I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful,
prosperous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see
her with a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father,
aged and bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all men in his
healing office, and at peace. I see the good old man, so long their
friend, in ten years' time enriching them with all he has, and passing
tranquilly to his reward.
"I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of
their descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman, weeping
for me on the anniversary of this day. I see her and her husband,
their course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I
know that each was not more honored and held sacred in the other's
soul than I was in the souls of both.
"I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a man
winning his way up in that path of life which was once mine. I see him
winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by the
light of his. I see blots I threw upon it faded away, I see him,
foremost of just judges and honored men, bringing a boy of my name,
with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place--then fair
to look upon, with not a trace of this day's disfigurement--and I hear
him tell the child my story, with a tender and a faltering voice.
"It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done; it is
a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."