The day of trial arrived--Mr. Percy came up to town, and brought Mrs.
Percy and Rosamond with him to his son Alfred’s, that they might all be
together, and hear as soon as possible their fate.
The trial came on about three o’clock in the afternoon. The court was
uncommonly crowded. Mr. Percy, his son Erasmus, and all his friends,
and Sir Robert and his adherents, appeared on opposite sides of the
galleries.
The excellent countenance and gentlemanlike demeanour of Mr. Percy were
contrasted with the dark, inauspicious physiognomy of Sir Robert, who
sat opposite to him, and who was never tranquil one second, but was
continually throwing notes to his counsel, beckoning or whispering to
his attorney--while convulsive twitches of face and head, snuff-taking,
and handkerchief spread frequently to conceal the expression of his
countenance, betrayed the malignant flurry of his spirits.
Alfred conducted his father’s cause in the most judicious and temperate
manner. An attempt had been made by Sir Robert to prejudice the public
against Mr. Percy, by representing him as the descendant of a younger
brother, who was endeavouring to dispossess the heir of the elder
branch of the family of that estate, which belonged to him by right of
inheritance. Alfred’s fast care was to put the court and the jury in
full possession of the facts. He stated that “His father, Lewis Percy,
plaintiff in this cause, and Robert Percy, Bart. defendant, both
descended from Sir John Percy, who was their grandfather. Sir John
outlived both his sons, who left him two grandsons, Robert was the son
of his eldest, and Lewis of his youngest son. Sir John had two estates,
one of them paternal, which went in the ordinary course of descent
to the representative of the eldest son, being the present Sir Robert
Percy. Sir John’s other estate, in Hampshire, which came to him by
his wife, he conveyed, a short time before his death, to his youngest
grandson, the present Lewis Percy, who had held undisturbed possession
of it for many years. But, in process of time, Sir Robert Percy ruined
himself by play, and having frequent intercourse with Sharpe, the
solicitor, upon some great emergency inquired whether it was not
possible to shake the title of his cousin Mr. Percy’s estate. He
suggested that the conveyance might not be forthcoming; but Sir Robert
assured him that both his grandfather and the present Mr. Percy were men
of business, and that there was little likelihood either that the
deeds should be lost, or that there should be any flaw in the title.
Afterwards a fire broke out at Percy-hall, which consumed that wing of
the house in which were Mr. Percy’s papers--the papers were all saved
except this deed of conveyance. Mr. Sharpe being accidentally apprized
of the loss, conveyed the intelligence to Sir Robert. He immediately
commenced a suit against his cousin, and had finally succeeded in
obtaining a verdict in his own favour, and possession of the Hampshire
estate. At the time when Mr. Percy delivered up possession and quitted
Percy-hall, in consideration of the extensive improvements which he
had made, and in consideration of his giving up to Sir Robert plate,
furniture, wine, horses, and equipages, Sir Robert had promised to
forego whatever claim he might have upon Mr. Percy for the rents which
he had received during the time he had held the estate; but, afterwards,
Sir Robert repented of having made this agreement, broke his promise,
and took out a writ against his cousin for the _mesne rents_. They
amounted to an immense sum, which Mr. Percy was utterly unable to pay,
and he could have had no hope of avoiding ruin, had the claim been by
law decided against him. By fortunate circumstances, however, he had,
while this cause was pending, recovered that lost conveyance, which
proved his right to the Hampshire estate. Of this he had apprized Sir
Robert, who had persisted, nevertheless, in holding possession, and in
his claim for the _mesne rents_. The present action was brought by Mr.
Percy in resistance of this unjust claim, and for the recovery of his
property.”
Not one word of invective, of eloquence, of ornament, or of any attempt
at pathos, did our barrister mix with this statement. It was his object
to put the jury and the court clearly in possession of facts, which,
unadorned, he knew would appear stronger than if encumbered by any
flowers of oratory.
Having produced the deed, conveying the Hampshire estate to his father,
Alfred called evidence to prove the signature of Sir John Percy, and the
handwriting of the witnesses. He farther proved that this conveyance had
been formerly seen among his father’s papers at Percy-hall, showed
it had been recently recovered from Mr. Falconer’s box of papers, and
explained how it had been put there by mistake, and he supported this
fact by the evidence of Commissioner Falconer, father-in-law to the
defendant.--Alfred rested his cause on these proofs, and waited, anxious
to know what defence the defendant was prepared to make.
To his astonishment and consternation, Sir Robert’s counsel produced
another deed of Sir John Percy’s, revoking the deed by which Sir John
had made over his Hampshire estate to his younger grandson, Mr. Percy;
it appearing by a clause in the original deed that a power for this
purpose had been therein reserved. This deed of revocation was handed to
the judge and to the jury, that it might be examined. The two deeds
were carefully compared. The nicest inspection could not discover any
difference in the signature or seal. When Mr. Friend examined them, he
was in dismay. The instrument appeared perfect. Whilst the jury were
occupied in this examination, Mr. Friend and Alfred had a moment to
consult together.
“We are undone,” whispered Mr. Friend, “if they establish this deed of
revocation--it sets us aside for ever.”
Neither Mr. Friend nor Alfred had any doubt of its being a forgery,
but those, who had plunged thus desperately in guilt, would probably be
provided with perjury sufficient to support their iniquity.
“If we had been prepared!” said Mr. Friend: “but how could we be
prepared for such a stroke? Even now, if we had time, we could summon
witnesses who would discredit theirs, but--”
“Do not despair,” said Alfred: “still we have a chance that their own
witnesses may cross each other, or contradict themselves. Falsehood,
with all its caution, is seldom consistent.”
The trial proceeded. Alfred, in the midst of the fears and sighs of his
friends, and of the triumphant smiles and anticipating congratulations
of his enemies, continued to keep both his temper and his understanding
cool. His attention was fixed upon the evidence produced, regardless
of the various suggestions whispered or written to him by ignorant or
learned advisers.
William Clerke, the only surviving witness to the deed of revocation
produced by Sir Robert, was the person on whose evidence this cause
principally rested. He was now summoned to appear, and room was made for
him. He was upwards of eighty years of age: he came slowly into court,
and stood supporting himself upon his staff, his head covered with thin
gray hairs, his countenance placid and smiling, and his whole appearance
so respectable, so venerable, as to prepossess, immediately, the jury
and the court in his favour.
Alfred Percy could scarcely believe it possible, that such a man as this
could be the person suborned to support a forgery. After being sworn, he
was desired to sit down, which he did, bowing respectfully to the court.
Sir Robert Percy’s counsel proceeded to examine him as to the points
they desired to establish.
“Your name, sir, is William Clerke, is it not?”
“My name is William Clerke,” answered the old man, in a feeble voice.
“Did you ever see this paper before?” showing him the deed.
“I did--I was present when Sir John Percy signed it--he bid me witness
it, that is, write my name at the bottom, which I did, and then he said,
‘Take notice, William Clerke, this is a deed, revoking the deed by which
I made over my Hampshire estate to my youngest grandson, Lewis Percy.’”
The witness was going on, but the counsel interrupted.
“You saw Sir John Percy sign this deed--you are sure of that?”
“I am sure of that.”
“Is this Sir John Percy’s signature?”
“It is--the very same I saw him write; and here is my own name, that he
bid me put just there.”
“You can swear that this is your handwriting?”
“I can--I do.”
“Do you recollect what time Sir John Percy signed this deed?”
“Yes; about three or four days before his death.”
“Very well, that is all we want of you, Mr. Clerke.”
Alfred Percy desired that Clerke should be detained in court, that
he might cross-examine him. The defendants went on, produced their
evidence, examined all their witnesses, and established all they
desired.
Then it came to Alfred’s turn to cross-examine the witnesses that had
been produced by his adversary. When William Clerke re-appeared, Alfred
regarding him stedfastly, the old man’s countenance changed a little;
but still he looked prepared to stand a cross-examination. In spite of
all his efforts, however, he trembled.
“Oh! you are trembling on the brink of the grave!” said Alfred,
addressing him in a low, solemn tone: “pause, and reflect, whilst you
are allowed a moment’s time. A few years must be all you have to spend
in this world. A few moments may take you to another, to appear before a
higher tribunal--before that Judge, who knows our hearts, who sees into
yours at this instant.”
The staff in the old man’s hand shook violently.
Sir Robert Percy’s counsel interrupted--said that the witness should
not be intimidated, and appealed to the court. The judge was silent,
and Alfred proceeded, “You know that you are upon your oath--these are
possibly the last words you may ever utter--look that they be true. You
know that men have been struck dead whilst uttering falsehoods. You are
upon your oath--did you see Sir John Percy sign this deed?”
The old man attempted in vain to articulate.
“Give him time to recollect,” cried the counsel on the opposite side:
“give him leave to see the writing now he has his spectacles.”
He looked at the writing twice--his head and hands shaking so that he
could not fix his spectacles. The question was repeated by the judge.
The old man grew pale as death. Sir Robert Percy, just opposite to him,
cleared his throat to catch the witness’s attention, then darted at him
such a look as only he could give.
“Did I see Sir John Percy sign this deed?” repeated William Clerke:
“yes, I did.”
“You hear, my lord, you hear,” cried Sir Robert’s counsel, “the witness
says he did--there is no occasion farther to intimidate this poor old
man. He is not used to speak before such an audience. There is no need
of eloquence--all we want is truth. The evidence is positive. My lord,
with your lordship’s leave, I fancy we may dismiss him.”
They were going to hurry him away, but Alfred Percy said that, with the
permission of the court, he must cross-examine that witness farther,
as the whole event of the trial depended upon the degree of credit that
might be given to his evidence.
By this time the old man had somewhat recovered himself; he saw that his
age and reverend appearance still prepossessed the jury in his favour,
and from their looks, and from the whispers near him, he learned that
his tremor and hesitation had not created any suspicion of guilt,
but had been attributed rather to the sensibility of virtue, and the
weakness of age. And, now that the momentary emotion which eloquence
had produced on his mind had subsided, he recollected the bribe that had
been promised to him. He was aware that he had already sworn what, if
he contradicted, might subject him to be prosecuted for perjury. He
now stood obstinately resolved to persevere in his iniquity. The first
falsehoods pronounced and believed, the next would be easy.
“Your name is William Clerke, and this,” said Alfred (pointing to the
witness’s signature), “is your handwriting?”
“Yes, I say it is.”
“You _can_ write then?” (putting a pen into his hand) “be so good as to
write a few words in the presence of the court.” He took the pen, but
after making some fruitless attempts, replied, “I am too old to write--I
have not been able to write my name these many years--Indeed! sir,
indeed! you are too hard upon one like me. God knows,” said he,
looking up to Heaven, some thought with feeling, some suspected with
hypocrisy--“God knows, sir, I speak the truth, and nothing but the
truth. Have you any more questions to put to me? I am ready to tell all
I know. What interest have I to conceal any thing?” continued he, his
voice gaining strength and confidence as he went on repeating the lesson
which he had been taught.
“It was long, a long while ago,” he said, “since it had all happened;
but thank Heaven, his memory had been spared him, and he remembered all
that had passed, the same as if it was but yesterday. He recollected how
Sir John looked, where he sat, what he said when he signed this deed;
and, moreover, he had often before heard of a dislike Sir John had taken
to his younger grandson--ay, to that young gentleman’s father,” looking
at Alfred; “and I was very sorry to hear it--very sorry there should be
any dispute in the family, for I loved them all,” said he, wiping his
eyes--“ay, I loved ‘em all, and all alike, from the time they were
in their cradles. I remember too, once, Sir John said to me, ‘William
Clerke,’ says he, ‘you are a faithful lad’--for I was a lad once--”
Alfred had judiciously allowed the witness to go on as far as he
pleased with his story, in the expectation that some exaggeration and
contradiction would appear; but the judge now interrupted the old man,
observing that this was nothing to the purpose--that he must not take up
the time of the court with idle tales, but that if he had any thing more
to give in evidence respecting the deed, he should relate it.
The judge was thought to be severe; and the old man, after glancing his
eye on the jury, bowed with an air of resignation, and an appearance of
difficulty, which excited their compassion.
“We may let him go now, my lord, may not we?” said Sir Robert Percy’s
counsel.
“With the permission of his lordship, I will ask one other question,”
said Alfred.
Now it should be observed, that after the first examination of this
witness, Alfred had heard him say to Mr. Sharpe, “They forgot to bring
out what I had to say about the seal.” To which Sharpe had replied,
“Enough without it.” Alfred had examined the seal, and had observed that
there was something underneath it--through a small hole in the parchment
he saw something between the parchment and the sealing-wax.
“You were present, I think you say, Mr. Clerke, not only when this deed
was signed, but when it was sealed?”
“I was, sir,” cried Clerke, eager to bring out this part of the
evidence, as it had been prepared for him by Sir Robert; “I surely
was; and I remember it particularly, because of a little remarkable
circumstance: Sir John, God bless him!--I think I see him now--My lord,
under this seal,” continued the old man, addressing himself to the
judge, and putting his shrivelled finger upon the seal, “under this very
seal Sir John put a sixpence--and he called upon me to observe him doing
it--for, my lord, it is my opinion, he thought then of what might come
to pass--he had a sort of a foreboding of this day. And now, my lord,
order them, if you please, to break the seal--break it before them
all,--and if there is not the sixpence under it, why this deed is not
Sir John’s, and this is none of my writing, and,” cried he, lifting up
his hands and eyes, “I am a liar, and perjured.”
There was a profound silence. The seal was broken. The sixpence
appeared. It was handed in triumph, by Sir Robert Percy’s counsel,
to the jury and to the judge. There seemed to be no longer a doubt
remaining in the minds of the jury--and a murmur of congratulation among
the partisans of Sir Robert seemed to anticipate the verdict.
“‘Tis all over, I fear,” whispered Friend to Alfred. “Alfred, you have
done all that could be done, but they have sworn through every thing--it
is over with us.”
“Not yet,” said Alfred. Every eye turned upon him, some from pity, some
from curiosity, to see how he bore his defeat. At length, when there was
silence, he begged to be permitted to look at the sixpence. The judge
ordered that it should be shown to him. He held it to the light to
examine the date of the coin; he discovered a faint impression of a head
on the sixpence, and, upon closer inspection, he made out the date, and
showed clearly that the date of the coin was later than the date of the
deed: so that there was an absolute impossibility that this sixpence
could have been put under the seal of the deed by Sir John.
The moment Alfred stated this fact, the counsel on the opposite side
took the sixpence, examined it, threw down his brief, and left the
court. People looked at each other in astonishment. The judge ordered
that William Clerke should be detained, that he might be prosecuted by
the crown for perjury.
The old man fell back senseless. Mr. Sharpe and Sir Robert Percy pushed
their way together out of court, disclaimed by all who had till now
appeared as their friends. No farther evidence was offered, so that here
the trial closed. The judge gave a short, impressive charge to the jury,
who, without withdrawing, instantly gave their verdict in favour of
the plaintiff, Lewis Percy--a verdict that was received with loud
acclamations, which not even respect to the court could restrain.
Mr. Percy and Alfred hastily shook hands with their friends, and in the
midst of universal applause hurried away to carry the good news to Mrs.
Percy and Rosamond, who were at Alfred’s house, waiting to hear the
event of the trial.
Neither Alfred nor Mr. Percy had occasion to speak--the moment Mrs.
Percy and Rosamond saw them they knew the event.
“Yes,” said Mr. Percy, “our fortune is restored; and doubly happy we
are, in having regained it, in a great measure, by the presence of mind
and ability of my son.”
His mother and sister embraced Alfred with tears of delight. For some
moments a spectator might have imagined that he beheld a family in deep
affliction. But soon through these tears appeared on the countenance of
each individual the radiance of joy, smiles of affection, tenderness,
gratitude, and every delightful benignant feeling of the human heart.
“Has any body sent to Mrs. Hungerford and to Lady Jane Granville?” said
Mr. Percy.
“Yes, yes, messengers were sent off the moment the verdict was given,”
said Erasmus: “I took care of that.”
“It is a pity,” said Rosamond, “that Caroline is not here at this
moment, and Godfrey.”
“It is best as it is,” said Mrs. Percy: “we have that pleasure still in
store.”
“And now, my beloved children,” said Mr. Percy, “after having returned
thanks to Providence, let me here, in the midst of all of you to whom I
owe so large a share of my happiness, sit down quietly for a few minutes
to enjoy ‘the sober certainty of waking bliss.’”