Five weeks have now elapsed since I was tried,--found
guilty,--sentenced.
Let me endeavour to recall the circumstances which attended that fatal
day.
It was a beautiful morning at the close of August. My trial had already
lasted three days; my name and accusation had collected each morning a
knot of spectators, who crowded the benches of the Court, as ravens
surrounded a corpse. During three days all the assembly of judges,
witnesses, lawyers, and officers had passed and repassed as a
phantasmagoria before my troubled vision.
The two first nights, through uneasiness and terror, I had been unable
to sleep; on the third I had slept, from fatigue and exhaustion. I had
left the jury deliberating at midnight, and was taken back to the heap
of straw in my prison, where I instantly fell into a profound
sleep,--the sleep of forgetfulness. These were the first hours of repose
I had obtained after long watchfulness.
I was buried in this oblivion when they sent to have me awakened, and my
sound slumber was not broken by the heavy step and iron shoes of the
jailor, by the clanking of his keys, or the rusty grating of the lock;
to rouse me from my lethargy it required his harsh voice in my ear, his
rough hand on my arm.
“Come,” shouted he, “rise directly!”
I opened my eyes, and started up from my straw bed: it was already
daylight.
At this moment, through the high and narrow window of my cell, I saw on
the ceiling of the next corridor (the only firmament I was allowed to
see) that yellow reflection by which eyes accustomed to the darkness of
a prison recognize sunshine. And oh, how I love sunshine!
“It is a fine day!” said I to the jailor.
He remained a moment without answering me, as if uncertain whether it
was worth while to expend a word; then, as if with an effort, he coolly
murmured, “Very likely.”
I remained motionless, my senses half sleeping, with smiling lips, and
my eyes fixed on that soft golden reflection which reverberated on the
ceiling.
“What a lovely day!” I repeated.
“Yes,” answered the jailor; “_they are waiting for you_.”
These few words, like a web which stops the flight of an insect, flung
me back into the reality of my position. I pictured to myself instantly,
as in a flash of lightning, that sombre Court of Justice, the Bench of
Judges, in their robes of sanguine hue, the three rows of stupid-looking
witnesses, two gendarmes at the extremity of my bench; black robes
waving, and the heads of the crowd clustering in the depth of the
shadow, while I fancied that I felt upon me the fixed look of the twelve
jurymen, who had sat up while I slept.
I rose: my teeth chattered, my hands trembled, my limbs were so weak
that at the first step I had nearly fallen; however, I followed the
jailor slowly.
Two gendarmes waited for me at the door-way of the cell; they replaced
my fetters, to which I yielded mechanically, as in a dream.
We traversed an interior court, and the balmy air of morning reanimated
me. I raised my head: the sky was cloudless, and the warm rays of the
sun (partially intercepted by the tall chimneys) traced brilliant angles
of light on the high and sombre walls of the prison. It was indeed a
delicious day.
We ascended a winding staircase; we passed a corridor, then another,
then a third, and then a low door was opened. A current of hot air,
laden with noise, rushed from it; it was the breath of the crowd in the
Court of Justice which I then entered.
On my appearance the hall resounded with the clank of arms and the hum
of voices; benches were moved noisily; and while I crossed that long
chamber between two masses of people who were walled in by soldiers, I
painfully felt myself the centre of attraction to all those fixed and
gaping looks.
At this moment I perceived that I was without fetters, but I could not
recall where or when they had been removed.
At length I reached my place at the bar, and there was a deep silence.
The instant that the tumult ceased in the crowd, it ceased also in my
ideas: a sudden clearness of perception came to me, and I at once
understood plainly, what until then I could not discover in my confused
state of mind, that _the decisive moment was come_! I was brought there
to hear my _sentence_!
Explain it who can: from the manner in which this idea came to my mind,
it caused me no terror! The windows were open; the air, and the sounds
of the City came freely through them; the room was as light as for a
wedding; the cheerful rays of the sun traced here and there the luminous
forms of the windows, sometimes lengthened on the flooring, sometimes
spreading on a table, sometimes broken by the angles of the walls; and
from the brilliant square of each window the rays fell through the air
in dancing golden beams.
The Judges at the extreme of the hall bore a satisfied appearance,
probably from the anticipation of their labours being soon completed.
The face of the President, softly lighted by a reflected sunbeam, had a
calm and amiable expression; and a young counsel conversed almost gaily
with a handsome woman who was placed near him.
The Jury alone looked wan and exhausted, but this was apparently from
the fatigue of having sat up all night. Nothing in their countenances
indicated men who would pass sentence of death.
Opposite to me a window stood wide open. I heard laughter in the Market
for Flowers beneath; and on the sill of the window a graceful plant,
illumined by sunshine, played in the breeze.
How could any sinister idea be formed amongst so many soothing
sensations? Surrounded by air and sunshine, I could think of nought save
freedom. Hope shone within me, as the day shone around me; and I awaited
my sentence with confidence, as one daily calculates on liberty and
life.
In the meantime my counsel arrived; after taking his place he leaned
towards me with a smile.
“I have hopes!” said he.
“Oh, surely!” I replied in the same light tone.
“Yes,” returned he; “I know nothing as yet of the verdict, but they have
doubtless acquitted you of premeditation, and then it will be only _hard
labour for life_!”
“What do you mean, sir?” replied I, indignantly; “I would prefer death!”
Then the President, who had only waited for my counsel, desired me to
rise. The soldiers carried arms; and, like an electric movement, all the
assembly rose at the same instant. The Recorder, placed at a table below
the Tribunal, read the verdict, which the Jury pronounced during my
absence.
* * * * *
A sickly chill passed over my frame; I leaned against the wall to avoid
falling.
“Counsel, have you anything to say why this sentence should not be
passed?” demanded the President.
I felt that _I_ had much to urge, but I had not the power,--my tongue
was cleaving to my mouth.
My counsel then rose. His endeavour appeared to be, to mitigate the
verdict of the Jury, and to substitute the punishment of hard labour for
life,--by naming which he had rendered me so indignant! This indignation
must again have been powerful within me to conquer the thousand emotions
which distracted my thoughts. I wished to repeat aloud what I had
already said to him, but my breath failed, and I could only grasp him
by the arm, crying with convulsive strength, “No!”
The Attorney-General replied against my counsel’s arguments, and I
listened to him with a stupid satisfaction. The Judges then left the
Court; soon returned, and the President read my sentence.
“_Condemned to death!_” cried the crowd; and as I was led away the
assembly pressed on my steps with avidity, while I walked on, confused,
and nearly in unconsciousness. A revolution had taken place within me.
Until that sentence of Death I had felt myself breathe, palpitate,
exist, like other beings. Now I felt clearly that a barrier existed
between me and the world. Nothing appeared to me under the same aspect
as hitherto. Those large and luminous windows, that fair sunshine, that
pure sky,--all was pale and ghastly, the colour of a winding sheet.
Those men, women, and children who pressed on my path seemed to me like
phantoms.
At the foot of the stairs a black and dirty prison-cart was waiting; as
I entered it, I looked by chance around.
“The Condemned Prisoner!” shouted the people, running towards the cart.
Through the cloud which seemed to me to interpose between me and all
things, I distinguished two young girls who gazed at me with eager eyes.
“Well,” said the youngest, clapping her hands, “_it will take place in
six weeks_.”