Hamlet.

Macbeth.

The Court had been opened, and was crowded with lawyers, petit jurors, witnesses, and excited spectators. A criminal trial of such interest as the present one had not occurred there for years; and the business in the Civil Courts had virtually been adjourned, so great was the determination of the pleaders therein to be present, and witness the conducting of a case so calculated to call forth the powers of the renowned and venerable advocate. All conspired to show that an extraordinary scene was to be enacted there that day. The Judge was more than usually grave, attentive and deliberate; the Crown Prosecutor wary, and complete in his preparations; the legal, technical, and clerical grounds of exception and demur, before the Crown was allowed to take up the burden of proof, were entered and explored by the advocate, as one who reconnoitres before committing his feet to dark and dangerous precincts, where any one of his advancing steps may prove to be fatal.

And now the case had been laid before the jury, and the witnesses for the prosecution, each as he testified touching the fearful crime laid to the charge of the prisoner at the bar, were being subjected to the terrible ordeal of a cross-examination by the advocate; who all eye all ear appeared, as in his earlier days; quick to detect, prompt to demand, stern to insist, at watch and ward at every point; so that his client seemed to have found in him an irresistible champion, and the crowd, to all of whom he was familiar, considered his success as certain, just as the veteran soldiery anticipate a triumph from the General, who has so often led them to victory that they deem him to have become invincible. But to the thoughtful and more observant, at times he showed signs of preoccupation, strangely at variance with his present undoubted supremely master mood; and as the trial proceeded these fits of wandering from the point increased in duration and intensity. An anxious expression settled on his countenance; his usually energetic but measured movements when he was thus engaged became irregular and nervous; and he frequently cast glances towards the entrance, as if expecting the arrival of some one; and twice in the midst of withering cross-examinations, stopped short at the sight of individuals elbowing their way through the crowd; gazing upon them enquiringly and with an air of expectation, until, passing, they became embedded in the serried mass of spectators; when, with a look of disappointment, he resumed his task, and again with consummate talent and characteristic vigor, did battle for his client, whose dark distinction in the dock went nigh unnoticed, from the settled attention bestowed on his defender, just as the prominently exhibited prize is sometimes overlooked and temporarily forgotten, in the observation compelled to the rare skill shown by the competing players.

But whilst the father was thus tasking every power of his trained intellect, and crowning his career with forensic fires, that now, in the evening of his genius, burned even more signally, than they had done in the midst of its meridian splendors;—whilst thus calling upon his great gifts, that, like to antique jewels brightened by abrasion in the wearing, shone yet the more from the polish of experience; and while lending a legal learning that, as a rapier which, ever ready and ever in requisition, has acquired no rust, was the more available from long practice combined with intuitive tact;—whilst all this was passing in high and public court, the ignoble son was awaking in a low lodging; weary and stiff after the raid of the past night, anxious and timid from a sense of guilt, and fearful of a future calling to account. His first wish was to discover whether his sire was yet informed of the disappearance of his ward. He knew that his father was retained in the trial which had been fixed for that day, and had there been any whom he could conveniently have sent to ascertain whether or not the advocate was in court, he would have despatched one thither, but he could prevail upon none about him to go for love, and money he had none to offer. His mother, alarmed at her master's discovery of the participation by Narcisse in their successful conspiracy, and not knowing where to find the latter, had despatched a messenger to the lodging of their bold and insolent accomplice, Alphonse Duchatel, requesting him to warn her son to avoid his father during that day. But the messenger failed to find him, and Narcisse at last arose, dressed, and, prompted by a curiosity that overcame his apprehensions, approached the Court House.

Meantime the advocate, tortured by increasing alarm, and with his imagination filling with tragic touches the picture of the possible fate of Amanda, had lost both recollection and temper; and for the first time when conducting a cross-examination, had been not merely baffled, but successfully bearded and insulted by an irritated witness, to relieve himself from whom, he was obliged abruptly to bid him leave the box. The occurrence stung him to the quick, though he strove to hide his chagrin;—no wonder. Taken at disadvantage, and in a moment of weakness, the old pleader was obliged to perceive that the wager of mental duel between himself and the witness had been decided against him; and to feel that, in an unsought encounter and fair affray, he had been publicly worsted. To add to his mortification, the witness walked from the box with the air of a conqueror, and cast an insolent look of triumph around the court and upon his antagonist, whose discomfiture was so signal as to be evident to judge, jurors, witnesses, spectators, all. Still more to increase the advocate's perturbation, the heat of the court had become excessive, and the rebuff—which, at an earlier period of his career, and with an unwounded heart, would have provoked only such a grim and threatening smile as a powerful wrestler might wear, when, in the careless security of proud contempt, he had been thrown by a boy—now, in the self-esteem of age and the anguish of bereavement, moved him almost to madness. Seizing his gown, he half cast it from his form, regardless of decorum, and stood the picture of misery, rage, and scorn.

Just then the court arose for a brief recess. Glad to breathe for a moment the fresher air, the spectators retired, the jury returned into their room, the sheriff and the crown prosecutor sauntered to their respective offices, the panel of petit jurors escaped in a body, the prisoner withdrew from the front of the dock, and sat unseen, pondering his chances between the gallows and an acquittal;—even the criers of the court abandoned their posts, and the younger members of the bar, who usually gathered round the advocate on these occasions, greeting him with pleasant compliments, and polite and reverent attentions, seeing him thus moody, drifted to the lobby, and in it paid court to some other, and secondary legal luminary who was there holding his levee. For awhile the advocate was left alone; then, emerging through the large folding doors into the corridor or lobby, now cumbered with the gossipping groups, through which he passed, solitary and in his gown, like Caesar in his robe passing through the midst of the conspirators, he proceeded past the doors of the offices occupied by the various crown officials. None spoke to the old man, he spoke to none, but his breast burned in agony, and a cloud was on his brow, like the smoke that wreathes around the crater of a volcano. His eyes seemed to shoot forth sparks, and his lips were muttering. Anger and sorrow were upon his face, but, turning a corner in the building, he was now hidden from the view of the multitude, and strode along the main corridor towards the huge double staircase that, midway therein, wound down to the dim entrance hall, that was divided by ponderous doors from the esplanade between the building and the busy street. A low, massive balustrade guarded the bridge-like portion of the corridor that hung between the heads of the twin flights of stairs, and whence, on looking down, was seen the paved abyss below. Approaching this part, what did he behold but the truant Narcisse, unconscious of his presence, ascending one of these flights of stairs. At the sight of him the gloomy elements of his soul seemed to flash within him and explode, rending all resolution of restraint, and leaving him a puppet of some destructive power, as he stood eyeing his son's approach, as the cat eyes that of the marauding mouse, motionless, allowing the culprit to draw near, until, detected, he stood, too nigh to retreat, too terrified to advance, and, as the fascinated bird drops into the open jaws of the serpent, fell resistless into the grasp of the advocate's extended hand. Then, as the firedamp when met by the miner's candle must explode, or as the liberated lightning must rend the cloud, though the latter be near Jove's throne, so the frenzied father, regardless, nay, forgetful, of the place, the time, the occasion, of himself and natural ties, assailed the scared Narcisse, clutching him by the throat with the strength of a maniac, and pushing him backwards against the balustrade, and holding him there transfixed, while, with eyes seething with wrath beneath the blanched, and big, umbrageous brows, and showing like a sudden opening of the infernal pit, he cried: “Demon, degenerate dog, where hast thou been walking to and fro in the earth? whom helping to devour? Ah, son of Satan, ah! Aroint thee, Imp, Abortion.”

Demon! degenerate dog! where hast thou been walking to and fro on the earth?

The astonished wretch strove to reply, but terror and strangulation forbade him; and the enraged parent, like an incarnate storm, at arm's-length shook him, as the dog shakes the rat which it has caught, or the lion its prey; and each moment the shuddering youth, hearing his father's deep curses, and stiffening with horror, was urged further and yet further over the abyss, and still with aimless, outstretched arms, and disparted, claw-like fingers, strove to clutch the advocate's gown; while with upturned and beseeching eyes starting from their sockets, and still half on the balustrade and half in air, with nothing but the grasp of his adversary retaining him, he hung, while the arm that held him quivered, and surged uneasily from side to side, as if irresolute whether to plunge him or to draw him back; until a growl of satisfaction, followed by an execration, gurgling in the advocate's throat, announced the coming climax: the arm was jerked outwards, the clenched fingers unclutched themselves, like an automaton's, and the miserable mannikin tumbled with a yell down to the stones beneath. An instant all was silent, then a faint groan rose from the bruised form, that the next moment lay on the bloody flags a senseless corpse. Drawing a loud sigh of indescribable relief, after his fearful and protracted agitation, the advocate—and now murderer—stood glaring downwards with fixed eyes and yet clenched teeth; then, sickening at the horrid sight which loomed beneath, turned and leaned for support against the balustrade over which he had cast his child. Hearing the noise of the scuffle, some stragglers from the mixed crowd on the lobby came running to the spot, and one enquired of the advocate if he were seized with a sudden sickness. But he only pointed downwards to where lay his ill-fated victim; and shook his head, looking all woebegone, in mad, mute misery. Astonished, some descended, and bearing the body up the stairs, laid it on a bench that stood against the wall, and opposite its destroyer; while a still increasing and motley multitude, including jurors, witnesses, constables, criers, counsellors, clerks of the court, crown prosecutor, sheriff, and lastly, the judge himself, hurrying, gathered round the scene of the catastrophe. A surgeon who happened to have been subpoened upon the current trial, opened a vein, but the blood refused to flow; and a barrister, stripping himself of his gown, threw it over the body as a pall. No one dared enquire the origin of what he saw, until the judge arriving, demanded: “Who has done this?”

“I,” feebly answered the advocate, ghastly pale, and yet leaning for support on the fatal balustrade. Alas! what a change! His countenance was grown haggard, and his white hair hung dishrevelled about his collapsed visage, like icicles round the pinched countenance of Winter. Despair was in his look, and he uttered the name of Amanda, and gazed bewildered around him, as if awaking from a sorrowful dream; and now began to whimper, to gaze upon the pall-like gown, and now to call upon the spirit that had flown—as a scared bird from a bush—forth from the body that lay beneath it.

“Narcisse,” he feebly cried, “Narcisse, my son,—for thou wert yet my son,—Narcisse, Narcisse,” he reiterated piteously; and the Sheriff advanced in his purple gown, and girt with his golden hilted sword, laid his hand on the shoulder of the old man, the lately proud advocate, but now wretched culprit, as a sign of his being put under arrest. But none else moved; the Sheriff himself shrinking from ordering the constable to give effect to the signal. All seemed transfixed with pain or chained with horror, as in tremulous tones of touching tenderness the slayer continued to call upon the dead.

“Narcisse, my son, my son,” he cried in agony; “Oh, I have killed thee, child; oh, thou art dead, dead, dead.—But thou didst steal thy sister; yes, I know thou didst; ay, that thou didst, and hast delivered her to dishonor, therefore have I killed thee. Come, Amanda, come hither, dearest, and behold thy brother; behold thy father, see what he has done, and all for thee. Yes, I did it, all you curious crowd. Amanda, oh, where art thou? let me see thee ere I die: Amanda dear, Amanda;” and at the words, Amanda, leaning on the arm of Claude, and followed by the elder Montigny and AndrÉ Duchatel, appeared upon the corridor, a sweet smile playing upon her features, and hastening forwards she fell upon the neck of her guardian, who was still leaning against the balustrade, pale, haggard and forlorn. Her companions, restrained by astonishment and fear, gazed aloof and mute, whilst the wretched criminal, eyeing them with a look of misery and suspicion, in a tone of inexpressible sadness at length exclaimed:

“Come you to see me, then, before I die; do you come to triumph over me, Seigneur Montigny? Look, see there, but do not touch it, for it is abhorred, abominable, a foul spirit, a black imp of hell. Amanda, art thou found?—Do not tremble, girl, do not weep; my daughter, child, for, without a figure, thou art my daughter; art, to the very letter, love, my child. Oh, we have much to tell each other; see what I have done—but hear me, then condemn me. Oh, Amanda, it is bliss to see, to feel thee here;—but here, here in this breast is sadness. I have been a rash and hasty fool, a madman, if you will, but no, no murderer; we kill mere vermin, we exterminate rats, roaches; and what worse than that is this which I have done. Pshaw, he was a reptile, a black beetle that came flying against me. He, my son! Oh, slander, where wilt thou not cast thy slime? the thing that the deceitful, wily woman palmed upon me, he my son, thy brother? preposterous conception. Yet sad has been the creature's end; and sad, sad, sad, I felt this morning when I left my home, with a presentiment which seemed to say, that I should never enter it again; and that presentiment is now fulfilled. Fate urged me on. Unnatural hate has pushed me to the ledge, and now I sink to lose myself in the abyss. Oh, foul fate! this deed foul, foul! Fair, fair Amanda, close thine eyes on this enormity; or be content to see it, yet not understand it, for knowledge here would surely drive thee mad.”

“Oh, sir, am I not mad, delirious?” enquired Amanda: “Oh, my kind guardian, my good angel, more than father, friend. What have you done? you have done nothing evil!” and she sobbed upon his bosom, and Claude stood transfixed and silent, until his eyes meeting those of the advocate, he demanded passionately:

“Sir, what may this mean; what horrible allusions drop like venom from your tongue; whence comes this change; tell me, I charge you, sir, why are you now so shaken, so wandering in your noble intellect, even mad; you whom I left this morning, sad indeed, yet sane?”

“I do not know whether I was sane or not when I did what I have done, or whether I am so just now; but for this scene, which must appear most strange to you, see there what shall explain it all,” replied the advocate; and the gown was partially withdrawn from the corpse by one of the spectators, and Claude with his male companions gazed upon it aghast, whilst Amanda turning away in terror and uttering a feeble moan, hid her face in the old man's breast.

“How has this happened?” Claude demanded at last with a voice hoarse and guttural with abhorrence; and the advocate shrugging his shoulders cynically replied:

“A bruise, a fatal fall; strange that he should have died of it. It has been said, the lower in the scale of being, the higher the tenacity of life. Yet here is an inferior intelligence dies of as little corporeal damage, as might a poet or a philosopher. There is no certainty in speculation, for by this experiment it has been proved, that the bulls-eye in the stable window, in falling is as fragile as the palace's clearest pane of crystal. Who would have thought it? A dunce, that no one would have branded for having brains, has from a mere tumble given up the ghost. Bury him, bury him; I am sorry for it, but cannot howl,” and at these last words a howl was heard from below, and soon Babet Blais came rushing along the corridor, wringing her hands, and frantically demanding: “Where is he, where is my boy, my sweet Narcisse?” and threw herself upon the corpse of her son. The advocate looked on with a bitter smile, and when he beheld her covering with kisses the cold, coarse features, exclaimed: “How these things love each other!—but when he was alive she would give him the food out of her mouth, draw for him the blood from her veins, sacrifice the immortal soul in her body with lies and patent perjury and crookedest excuses, if so was that she might screen him and his faults, deceiving me.—Beshrew thee, woman!—but wherefore should I curse thee? thou art what thou wert made to be, even as I am that which I was made to be, a desolation and a miserable man:” and when he ceased Babet started from her knees, and, looking on him with new born fierceness, cried: “Monster, not master; man killer, son killer,—oh, you have killed my own, my dear Narcisse! murdered my son, my boy, my child, my only joy:” and she again cast herself upon the body, and, with her face nestling in the dead bosom, sobbed and wept aloud.

The advocate seemed softened, and, looking at Claude, demanded: “Who is there that shall not fulfil his fate? for this I was born, and for it I shall die.” The sheriff again essayed to remove him, but he sank at his touch, as the dust of an ancient corpse falls before the breath of the outer atmosphere, and with mortality moulding his visage: “Stay,” he said, “let me die here; death has arrested me, he needs no warrant.” A spasm passed over his face, his frame slightly quivered; and looking beseechingly at Claude, the latter bent tenderly over him, and he thus began: “It were foolish in me to suppose that you have not heard of my irregularities. You will not be astonished, then, when I call this girl my child, no longer my mere ward, but mine own child, so late acknowledged. Amanda, child,”—and his voice faltered, while he spoke with increasing difficulty,—“will you acknowledge me in this disgrace, receiving with the name of father that of felon? Mona Macdonald is your mother, to whom I have promised marriage till my way down to perdition is paved with broken oaths, as false as her love was true, and as hot as was the fire which fell from heaven, when Elijah strove with Baal's prophets, and that licked up the water in the trench, as did those burning oaths of mine so often dry up her tears. Give me your hand, Claude; Seigneur Montigny, give me yours. I see a change within you towards this lady. Stand not between her and your son, as you would wish no sin to stand betwixt yourself and Heaven at Judgment.” Then in a low tone meant only for Claude's ear, he whispered, gasping:

Quick, I am dying: bend over me: let me perceive your breath, for I am blind.

“Think all I would have said, if there were time, and we were happier. Farewell for ever; I cannot tarry, neither would I do it now. I have outlived myself by near an hour, for I was not myself when I performed this deed.” And again a spasm passed over his frame, his eyes grew fixed and glazed, and he earnestly exclaimed: “Gather near me all who love me, and all to love whom is my duty. Quick, quick; for a film overspreads my eyes, the throes of death are tearing down this frame. Quick, I am dying. Bend over me; let me perceive your breath, for I am blind. Bend, bend;—stoop yet lower; I cannot feel you, for each sense grows dull; stoop lower yet.—Oh, soul, why all this haste? Amanda, Claude, poor, missing Mona, I have somewhat more to say to you; quick, listen, listen, or it will be too late. Pshaw! pshaw! it is too late, too late, too late!” And his head fell backwards, and with his arms clasped convulsively around the necks of Claude and Amanda, the advocate, like his son, was a corpse. On the following day both of them were laid in the English burying ground, but no stone marks the spot, and in vain the stranger seeks to discover it. None are able, or care, to point it out, restrained by a superstitious awe. A few octogenarians still remember him, and look grave and shake the head, when questioned as to the story and fate of the talented and terrible Advocate of Montreal.

[End of The Advocate by Charles Heavysege]