Ah, Richard, with the eyes of heavy mind,
I see thy glory, like a shooting star,
Fall to the base earth from the firmament.
Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west,
Witnessing storms to come, war, and unrest;
Thy friends are fled to wait upon thy foes,
And crossly to thy good all fortune goes.
Shakspeare.
Randolph Trevethlan never stirred from his seat during the suspension of
the proceedings. When they were resumed, his counsel argued at some
length, that even if the tale which they had heard were true, the
marriage so contracted would be valid, and that therefore the plaintiff
had failed in making out his case. The other side were stopped in their
reply by the judge, who said, that while the court would listen with
patience to any argument intended to save an innocent woman from the
effect of a fraudulent marriage, that could not be considered the point
in question here; the imputed object being to interfere with the rights
of the heir presumptive by securing a family; and that, therefore,
without expressing any opinion upon what might be considered an
undecided point, he should not stop the case. So Rereworth's leader
proceeded to address the jury for the defence.
He began by a skilful and minute analysis of Everope's narrative, in
which he exhibited its incredibility in a strong light, and heightened
it by a continual reference to the worthlessness of the witness's
character as exposed by himself. He pointed out his connection with
Michael Sinson, a person in the employment of the claimant's family, and
a nephew of the late Mrs. Trevethlan. From him, therefore, Everope could
have obtained all the particulars which he pretended to know of his own
experience. He would be called before the court, and the jury would
judge whether the tale had not been concocted between the two. Sinson
had motives of his own for hostility to the family of Trevethlan, which
would be heard from his own lips. He did not impute to the claimant any
cognizance of the fraud, by which he maintained the claim had been
attempted to be established. Departing from this point, he said he
should show, by indisputable evidence, that the late Mr. Trevethlan
never contemplated the baseness which had been attributed to him, could
not possibly have suspected any flaw in his marriage, and always treated
Margaret as his lawful wife, and his children as lawfully born; for,
first, he strongly desired that his own chaplain would perform the
ceremony, as they would hear from that gentleman himself; secondly, if,
as suggested by the plaintiff, his object had been to make sure of
barring the present claim, he would have caused the marriage to be
repeated before the birth of his first child; and thirdly, if he had had
any suspicion that his children would not inherit by descent, he would
have assuredly provided for them by will. But although his estates
belonged to him in fee, he had bequeathed them nothing, dying, as it
might be said, intestate; he had always treated Margaret as his wife,
and had never expressed the slightest doubt of the perfect formality of
his marriage. By his own conduct he had thus defeated the very design
which was imputed to him, and his own alleged proceedings would have
brought about that result which he was said to have sought to avoid, the
succession, namely, of the present claimant. In the face of so much
incoherency, was it possible, for one moment, to entertain so incredible
a tale as that which had been heard from a witness of so very
disreputable a character? If such testimony could prevail, no household
would be safe.
Now, he should produce the licence under which the marriage took place;
he should--despite the incident which Everope had stated as occurring,
and which he had probably learned from Michael Sinson--call before them
Maud Basset, the mother of Margaret, the only known surviving witness of
the ceremony, and she would tell them--they had heard her exclamation in
court--that it was a good marriage; he should also call several members
of the household of Trevethlan Castle, who would swear they always
regarded it as such; and he should show that the children had been
christened as the lawful offspring of Henry and Margaret Trevethlan; and
again he repeated, that if the unsupported and monstrous testimony of a
single individual of bad reputation were permitted to countervail so
strong a chain of presumption no union could be secure, and any of his
hearers would be liable to have his children disinherited and their
names stigmatized by any villain who would forswear himself for hire.
Let the jury consider the story they had heard. That a gentleman of high
character and station, under circumstances entirely different from those
in Goldsmith's famous story, wishing to form a marriage which he might
either affirm or repudiate subsequently, should dare to apply to a
stranger, a clergyman of the church, to assist him in so nefarious a
design,--that this clergyman, far from expressing any indignation,
should merely suggest a little difficulty,--that, by a coincidence
sufficiently remarkable, this Everope, discarded by his family, living
by his wits, should at that very time encounter his old college
acquaintance,--that to him Ashton should immediately relate the
business, and invite his co-operation,--that this precocious villain
should at once accept the mission,--that Mr. Trevethlan should receive
him without question or surprise,--that he should perform the impious
mockery he had described,--that, needy and profligate, he should keep so
valuable a secret for so long a time,--that at length, by another
singular coincidence, he should fall in with a dependent of the family
to whom it was so important; should tell the story apparently as an
excellent joke; should for the first time become aware of its worth, and
should sell himself to give the evidence they had heard to-day--Yes:
indignation had diverted him from the picture he was drawing to the real
motive under which the witness acted.
But let the jurors turn from this view of the subject to the one he
should now present to them. Let them see Mr. Trevethlan, when, for
reasons entirely beside the question at issue, he had decided on
marrying a person of inferior station, applying to his chaplain, as a
matter of course, to perform the ceremony. Let them see him, on that
gentleman's declining, preferring the same desire to this Mr. Ashton,
then resident in the neighbourhood. Let them suppose the ceremony to
have been really and duly performed by him, as it appears recorded in
the register of baptisms. Let them recollect the disappearance of
Ashton, and of Wyley, the witness. Let them see how two children were
borne by Mrs. Trevethlan, and duly christened by the chaplain of the
castle. Let them then turn to the conduct of her relations. Let them
imagine the hopes raised, the desires excited by their great connection.
Let them note one of these relatives permitted to hang about the castle
as a sort of companion to the young heir. Let them suppose certain
presumption to grow up, and to be suddenly checked by the expulsion of
all the race. Let them conceive the consequent exasperation, and
heighten it by an unfounded suspicion that the exalted peasant-woman was
ill-used. Let them consider such feelings as still rankling when Michael
Sinson enters the service of the claimant in this action. Let them think
of him as actuated both by hope of reward and desire of revenge,
devising this subtile scheme, and seeking only an agent to accomplish
it. Let them find him meeting the ruined scoundrel, whom they had heard
that day, and he thought they would have little difficulty in
unravelling the dark plot, which was now, for the first time, publicly
developed against the well-being, the happiness, and the good fame of an
old and distinguished and honourable family.
At the close of this address, Michael Sinson was called into the
witness-box, and examined by Rereworth.
"You are a relation, I believe, of the late Mrs. Trevethlan?"
"A nephew of the late Margaret Basset."
The witness was then led on, by further questions, to describe the hopes
excited in his family by the marriage now in dispute; the manner in
which he was allowed to hang about Trevethlan Castle; the offence which
his demeanour gave to its owner, and the expulsion of his relations from
their farm. Fencing with his examiner, he at first affected to treat
this circumstance with indifference, but was forced by degrees into a
confession of his bitter and rankling mortification.
"And so, sir," Rereworth suddenly asked, "all your family considered
this marriage to be perfectly good?"
"It was for their interest," Sinson said, stammering.
"For their interest, sir!" Seymour exclaimed indignantly. "Why, sir, was
not Mrs. Trevethlan's good name at stake?"
"My poor relative has been dead for a long time," the witness answered.
"And it is her nephew who comes forward to shame her in her grave! You
are now in the service of Mr. Pendarrel, the real claimant in this
action?"
"Of Mrs. Pendarrel."
The answer produced a slight titter in the court.
"What does Mrs. Pendarrel pay you for getting up her case?"
Sinson hesitated for some time, and made no answer.
"Do you hear, sir?" Rereworth continued. "What is to be your hire for
slandering your mother's sister?"
The plaintiff's counsel interposed, and protested against his learned
friend's so discrediting his own witness.
"I consider," the witness said, having recovered himself, "that my
unfortunate relative was deceived in the business. It was no fault of
hers."
Rereworth now turned to Michael's connection with Everope. Asked how the
acquaintance began; how long it had lasted; how the spendthrift came to
communicate the story which he told in court; what Sinson knew of his
habits and associates; whether he provided him with a maintenance? Then
he reverted to the journey into Cornwall, of which Everope had given so
frank an explanation; and concluded by again questioning the witness
respecting any expectation of reward which he entertained or had held
forth as the consequence of success in this action.
"Do you expect any reward at all, sir?" Michael was asked, in
cross-examination. "Have any promises been made to you?"
"No," he answered, "I have been only doing my duty, and expect nothing."
"And have you, in fact, held out any expectations to the witness
Everope?"
"None whatever."
"Well, sir, is it not matter of notoriety that there was great doubt
about this pretended marriage?"
"Certainly. It has been thrown in my teeth a hundred times."
Little profit had this witness brought to the defendant. Maud Basset,
who had been detained out of court since her interruption of the
proceedings, was now summoned into the box.
"You are the mother of the late Mrs. Trevethlan, madam?"
"Sure and I am. Of my own Margaret. But I dinna understand it at all."
"You recollect your daughter's marriage, Mrs. Basset?"
"And a proud day was that for me," the old woman replied, "when the
squire asked for her to be his wife. But my Margaret was fit to be a
queen. Woe's me that he beguiled me, that she should be married only to
be murdered."
"You were present at the marriage, I believe, madam?"
"Of course I was. Where else should her mother be? And he all so cold
and stately like, and she weeping and crying so. I might have known what
would come of it. I saw it all with my own eyes."
"Do you remember the name of the clergyman, Mrs. Basset?"
"Ashton it was--Theodore Ashton. The same as I saw it written at the
christening of her child. Woe's me! 'twas the last time almost I saw
her."
"And you believe it was a good marriage?"
"Where's he that says it was not? My Michael? Na, na; 'tis some of them
that murdered her. But they cannot get quit of the blood. The young
squire would break the connection, would he? Na, na; it was a good
marriage, and the ties are too strong."
"Pray, madam," the plaintiff's leader now asked, "did anything
particular happen on this occasion?"
"I dinna understand it at all."
"Did you not notice something ... about the ring?"
"Well, the minister was nervous-like, and dropped it, and I said it was
no a sign of luck. But I dinna understand it at all."
"Did you know the person whom you call minister, madam?"
"Know him! he was living like at Dame Sennor's, away on the cliff. So
they told me."
"Where is Mrs. Sennor now? Is she here?"
"Why, sir, Dame Sennor's been dead and gone this many a year."
"Had you ever seen the minister before the ceremony?"
"I canna say that I had. But he married my Margaret, and that I am well
certain."
"How long did your daughter survive afterwards, madam?"
"A little better than three years. But it was a long time sin' I had
seen her."
"You used the word 'murdered.' What did you mean, ma'am?"
"Her bliss was made her bane," Maud answered fiercely. "The squire broke
her heart, and none of hers were let to come nigh her."
Neither side, it may be observed, chose to confront the old woman with
Everope, and inquire concerning her recognition of him. But the judge
now desired him to stand forward.
"Look at that person, madam," said his lordship. "Can you say whether
that is the man who performed this marriage?"
"Well, I canna tell at all," was the reply. "It's three-and-twenty years
agone, and my eyes grow dimly like. I canna tell at all."
Polydore Riches was the next witness. He proved Mr. Trevethlan's urgent
request to him to perform the ceremony, and his refusal; that Margaret
had always been treated as the mistress of the castle; and that her
children had been by him duly christened as the offspring of Henry and
Margaret Trevethlan. He also deposed to the behaviour of her relations;
to the anger it produced in Mr. Trevethlan; to their banishment from the
castle, and their undisguised mortification. In cross-examination he
stated, as his reason for refusing to celebrate the union, that he
disapproved both of itself and of its manner.
"I must ask you, Mr. Riches, were there not rumours very prevalent soon
after the alleged marriage, that it had not been duly performed?"
The question was objected to, but allowed, and the chaplain acknowledged
that it was so.
"Did you know this Theodore Ashton, Mr. Riches?"
"Very slightly indeed."
"Are you aware of anything in his character which might make the conduct
imputed to him to-day not improbable?"
This question was also objected to, and not pressed.
"Would you have remained an hour in the castle, Mr. Riches," Rereworth
then asked; "had you suspected there was anything fraudulent in the
marriage?"
"Most certainly I would not."
Griffith and his wife corroborated the evidence of the chaplain, but
were also obliged to admit the popular rumours. The licence for the
marriage, and also Mr. Trevethlan's will were put in evidence, and then
with some other testimony of less consequence, the case for the defence
closed. The plaintiff's counsel rose to reply.
In the first place, he begged the jury to disabuse their minds of the
imputations which his learned friend had dexterously cast upon some of
the evidence in the case. It was rather strange that he should have to
defend a witness on the other side, but he was sure they would agree
with him, that any indignation on the part of young Sinson would be more
than justified, by conduct such as had been vaguely hinted at by his
grandmother; and would be properly uncontrollable if the family
participated in the popular idea, that the marriage was fraudulent.
Their reasons for concealing such suspicions from the pretended bride's
mother were evident enough. Her strong feeling was alone an explanation.
Then as to Everope, not the least portion of his learned friend's
insinuations had been borne out. Whatever might be that person's
circumstances, he maintained that no slur had been thrown upon the
honesty of his testimony. Now let them look at the presumptions raised
for the defence, and see how easily they could be made to tally with the
truth of the plaintiff's case. First, there was Mr. Trevethlan's request
to his chaplain; why, he would know beforehand, from that gentleman's
character, that he would refuse to perform the ceremony. He ran no risk
in making the demand, and had it been acceded to, it might have been
evaded. Then as to the establishment of Margaret as his wife, it was a
mere matter of course, even if it were but temporary. And with regard to
his recognition of her children, that was the object of the entire
scheme. But it was urged, that he had himself defeated this object. So
men often did. Mr. Trevethlan might have feared to expose his conduct at
the pretended marriage; he might suppose that the disappearance of
Ashton and Wyley would prevent the fraud from being discovered; or he
might even, as had been done here to-day, attempt to prove that the
mock-marriage was valid. The penalty which hung over the real performer
of the ceremony would prevent that person from coming forward. As to the
omission in the will, it was probably the effect of long tranquillity
and habit. True, the inmates of the castle declared their positive
belief in the absence of any deceit; but the jury, and he did not mean
it offensively, would recollect their prejudices, and also that even
they were compelled to allow that the same feeling did not exist outside
the castle walls. Admitting everything that had been proved for the
defence, there was nothing inconsistent with the story related by
Everope, and confirmed they would recollect by Maud Basset's statement
with respect to the ring. And he confidently looked to the jury, not to
allow the mere opinions and presumptions of interested parties to
outweigh the clear and positive declaration of an indifferent stranger.
Such is a brief narrative of the arguments and evidence adduced on each
side, in a trial which in fact occupied many hours. The judge now
proceeded to sum up the whole for the consideration of the jury. The
court had been densely crowded all day, and the excitement of the
audience ran very high.
Whatever difficulty, his lordship gravely remarked, there might be in
this case, arose from the deplorable manner in which the late Mr.
Trevethlan had caused his marriage to be solemnised, supposing for a
moment that it was a marriage. He fully agreed with the reverend
witness, Mr. Riches, in entirely condemning such a mode of celebration.
Marriages should be performed in public. But the plaintiff denied that
there had been any marriage at all, and produced an individual, who
swore that not being in holy orders, he took upon himself to read the
matrimonial service from the Prayer-book, and falsely and illegally to
pronounce Henry Trevethlan and Margaret Basset to be man and wife. If
the jury believed that witness, they must return a verdict for the
plaintiff, for it was not pretended that there had been any other
performance of the rite, than that to which this account would apply. On
the other hand, they had heard the evidence adduced to show, that Mr.
Trevethlan had always considered his marriage as valid, and that it had
been likewise so regarded by all who were connected with his family. But
then, again, it would seem that in the neighbourhood a very different
opinion had prevailed. Unquestionably the circumstances were mysterious,
and he could not but imagine that further evidence would be discovered
before very long. With that, however, they had nothing to do. They had
to compare a plain and positive story with a strong presumption, and if
they were unable to disbelieve the former, to return a verdict, as he
had said before, for the plaintiff.
His lordship then went minutely through the evidence on both sides, not
sparing the character of Everope, who, he remarked, would certainly have
been transported if he had been discovered to have really acted as he
confessed, within a certain time now unfortunately elapsed; and,
finally, he desired the jury to consider their verdict.
They requested permission to retire; and while they were absent, the
excitement of the audience rose to the highest pitch. There was a
general buzz of conversation. Every one was speculating on the result.
Bets were offered and taken freely. The bar were discussing the judge's
charge, and its tendency. Not a few people moved from their places to
try to obtain another sight of the defendant. None of the claimant's
family were in court. Randolph, perfectly unconscious of the attention
he attracted, sat like a statue. His leading counsel looked anxious, and
Rereworth lent his forehead on his hands, and seemed to pore over his
brief.
"Silence! order!" proclaimed the return of the jury; and the demand did
not require to be repeated.
"For the plaintiff," the foreman said, in answer to the question of the
clerk of assize.
"May we have immediate possession, my lord?" counsel asked.
The judge shook his head.
There was a rush from the court. It was all over.