Jeremy Poldark

by Winston Graham

  “You’ll have visited and studied at Bedlam, of course.”

  “No, I have not.”

  “Not? You haven’t even been there?”

  “No.”

  “Indeed, then—”

  “I’m not suggesting that Captain Poldark was insane. I am saying that in my view he was temporarily—not himself, through grief and lack of sleep.”

  “Would you excuse him on those grounds?”

  “Certainly. Yes.”

  “Do you think that everyone who loses a child in infancy is justified in creating a riot throughout three parishes with great loss of property and considerable loss of life?”

  “I do not believe that Captain Poldark created the riot. But if he acted strangely in certain ways I believe he did so because of a temporary unsettlement of his reason. He’s not a man normally given to lawless acts.”

  “That is a matter which will come out after the verdict,” said Bull silkily. “At present I suggest you do not bring his character into it.”

  “I can only give you my opinion as his physician.”

  “We have already heard that. Thank you, Dr. Enys.”

  Dwight hesitated. “It is an opinion I would stake my reputation on.”

  “We do not know what your reputation is, Dr. Enys. But thank you just the same.”

  “One moment.” It was the Hon. Mr. Justice Lister. Dwight stopped. “You say you formed this opinion of the prisoner the night before. On what did you base your opinion?”

  “On…on his general behaviour, my lord. He was not entirely coherent in his remarks. When his daughter died a great many people came for the funeral. All classes came, from the highest to the lowest. He’s held in very great respect, you see. But because his wife was ill, it was impossible to give them any sort of refreshment—as is customary, my lord, at funerals in Cornwall. The fact weighed heavy on Captain Poldark’s mind. He went on and on repeating his regret that he hadn’t been able to feed them. He wasn’t drunk—he drank very little at that time. It was, in my view, solely a mental condition.”

  “Thank you,” said the judge, and Dwight left the stand.

  There was another stirring in the court. People got up and stretched their legs and spat and rustled papers. But no one moved to go out, and those pressing to enter were unable to. It was the prisoner’s last chance now, to sway the court and the jury if he might by his eloquence—or, if that were lacking, as it usually was, to read the defence he had prepared with the help of his counsel and trust that that would serve.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was now or never. His own defence, stating what he had felt and done, briefly and bluntly…Or Clymer’s mock humility, denying everything, even putting new interpretations on what he’d said in the magistrate’s court…Or a compromise, using the more temperate part of his own and the less disingenuous of Clymer’s. If he attempted that he would stumble and falter.

  They were waiting…

  “My lord,” Ross said, “this case has taken much of your time already. I’ll try to take as little more as may be necessary to ask your clemency—and the jury’s understanding. The worst that can be said of me has been said by the counsel for the Crown. Witnesses have been called in support of his case, and I have called witnesses to disprove it—or certain parts of it. The best that can be said of me has been said by them. You have heard both sides and can form your own conclusions.

  “It’s true that on January the seventh last there were two wrecks on Hendrawna Beach, just below my house, that my servant informed me of the first one when it was just coming light, and that I took a horse and told several people of the neighbourhood. If you ask me my motive, I cannot remember. At least, I did it, and in due course a great number of people came upon the beach and the ships were stripped bare. I was there most of the day—but although my house was afterwards searched, no goods from the ships were found there. In fact I took none. Rather strange, don’t you think, for the ringleader of a lawless mob to take none of the spoils for himself?

  “Now as to this lawless mob. In his speech the counsel spoke of there being more than two thousand people on the beach. That is true. But later he spoke of these people as being the—if I remember rightly—the dissident and lawless sweepings of five parishes. I wonder if he knows how sparsely the countryside is populated in this district. The whole population of five parishes would not be above six thousand, including women and children. Does he suggest that every able-bodied man in those parishes is a dissident and lawless scoundrel? I don’t feel that, as reasonable people, you will agree with such an estimate.”

  Ross turned back to the judge, warming a little to his theme because for the moment it was not so directly concerning himself.

  “No, my lord, of the two thousand on the beach not fifty came with any intent to break the law, not ten but would be loyal and faithful subjects of the King when given chance to be so. All the rest came—as people will come whatever their class—to witness a sensational happening, whether it is a fire or a wreck—or an assize—or an execution. They needed no invitation from me. They would have quickly been there without it. Perhaps half a hundred were there more quickly because of my summons. That was all. There is a mine on the cliffs almost overlooking the beach. When someone at the workings caught sight of the wreck—as they must have done soon—do you not think his action would have been the same as mine: to rouse his friends—without searching into his heart for this or that motive, but just to rouse his friends?”

  As Ross paused to collect his thoughts, someone sniggered loudly at the back of the court. He knew at once who it was. Eli Clemmow had done just the same thing three years ago at the petty sessions when Ross had been speaking on Jim Carter’s behalf. Then it had had the effect of breaking the continuity of his reasoning and diverting the attention of the justices. It must not happen that way again.

  “Gentlemen of the jury,” he said, “as to what happened when those people got on the beach and saw the ships wrecked, I must ask you to think for a moment of the traditions of our county. That attempts are made or have ever been made to lure ships on the rocks by means of false lights is a calumny which has been spread only by the prejudiced or the ignorant. But that people search the beaches for flotsam and look on the leavings of the tides as their own especial property is too commonly known to need emphasis. The law says such flotsam belongs to the Crown—or perhaps to this or that lord of the manor—but in fact when the stuff is of little value no attempt is made to reclaim it from the people who found it. In times of dire want these little pickings have often been the means of keeping people—honest decent people—alive. So a habit—a tradition is formed. What happens, then, when a whole ship comes in? People flood to the beach to see the wreck, and to help in the rescue work—there are two widows in my parish who would not be widows if their husbands had not tried to save shipwrecked sailors. But when the rescue work is done, are they to stand idly by and wait for the arrival of the excise men? The law says yes. The law, of course, is right. But when men have seen their children without a crust for their bellies or a rag for their backs, it’s hard for them to reason as they should.”

  He had got the attention of the court again.

  “The counsel has suggested that these people are revolutionaries—that I am a revolutionary—branded with the desire to overthrow authority. I answer, quite simply, that nothing could be further from the truth. We are not. As for the assaults upon the crew of the second ship—this was a disgraceful episode which I will not attempt to excuse. But it was done by men in drink and by men from far afield who had come—certainly not at my invitation—when news of the first wreck had travelled to them.

  “Finally, as to the attack on the excise men. No defence or excuse is needed because I was not there. I never saw the excise men. They never saw me. I warned the sergeant of dragoons not to go on the beach at that juncture because everyone was by then
very excited, and I wished to avoid bloodshed. By the time these men arrived there was very little they could do.”

  Ross looked through Clymer’s notes again, but found nothing more he could, even in this new mood, bring himself to add.

  “So that is all I have to say. I pray I am equal to whatever fortune is in store for me, and put myself upon the candour, the justice, and the humanity of your lordship, and upon yours, my country men, gentlemen of the jury.”

  He bowed and sat down in the back of the dock, and as he did so there was a little grumble of approval at the rear of the court.

  ***

  Verity whispered: “I don’t think we could get out now if we wanted to. The doorway and benches are so crammed.”

  “No. We must stay. I shall be all right.”

  “Here, try these smelling salts again.”

  “No, no. Listen.”

  “There are three charges,” said the Hon. Mr. Justice Lister coldly, “on which this man stands before you. He is charged with riot, with wrecking, and with assault upon an officer of the Crown. You have heard the evidence, and it is your duty to bring in a verdict in accordance with that evidence. You may find him guilty on all three charges—or on any one of them.

  “Now as to the third charge—namely assaulting and injuring an excise officer—there is some conflict of evidence. Two witnesses have sworn to his being the man, two have given testimony that he could not possibly have been there. The excise officer himself is doubtful on the point of identity, and none of his colleagues has been called to assist the prosecution. It was a dark and wind-swept night and it is possible that there has been a confusion of identity. It is a matter for you to decide whether you prefer to accept the testimony of his two servants who swear that he never left the house again or the testimony of Trevail and Clemmow, who declare that they saw him strike the officer down. But where there is a reasonable element of doubt, let me remind you it is an axiom of English law that an accused man should receive the benefit of it.”

  To Demelza’s fevered imagination it seemed that he glanced towards her as he spoke.

  “As to the first two charges, these are very differently based. The prisoner admits that he summoned people to the wreck, but claims—appears to claim, that his aim was as much to succour the shipwrecked as to pillage the vessel, and that the riot inadvertently developed without his encouragement or desire. That, if I interpret him correctly, is his defence now—and it is the crux of the matter; yet certain of his statements and certain of his actions at the time lay themselves open to a different interpretation. If, for instance, he was really concerned to save the passengers and crews, why was he not more active in doing so? How was it that, between swimming out to the first ship and a belated offer of shelter to the people of the second ship—many hours later—he apparently made no efforts on their behalf? They did not see him. He says he did not see them. But he admits to being on the beach. What was he doing there all those hours?”

  Mr. Justice Lister was speaking without notes. In fact he had taken none during the trial.

  “The prisoner’s physician has been called to testify to Captain Poldark’s distressed condition at the time of the wrecks—suggesting virtually that he was not responsible for his actions at the time. Whether you consider such testimony sufficiently weighty to be of vital importance is for you to decide. I would only point out that such a condition, if it ever did exist, can hardly have prevailed at the time of the justice’s examination—which took place six weeks later. You have heard the statements made by the accused at that examination carefully read to you, and I have no doubt they are present in your minds. You will remember he was asked: ‘What purpose had you in leading your friends to the wreck?’ To which his reply was: ‘There were people in the district who were starving.’ Later he was asked: ‘Did you approve of this riot which had started?’ And he answered: ‘I did not consider it a riot.’ What then, you may wonder, did he consider it? Did he look on it as a justifiable act of robbery and pillage?

  “Now you may say, ‘But if the third charge is unproven, it is difficult to prove an illegal act against the prisoner in person on the other counts. Where is the testimony providing concrete evidence of his guilt? For instance, did anyone see him carry off one stick or stone from either of the ships?’ The answer is, no. But in law, if you are satisfied that a riot took place, it is only necessary to be further satisfied that the prisoner was sufficiently involved in the affair as to be guilty as a principal. A common intent to commit a felony makes the act of one the act of all—and it is not necessary even to be present at the actual commission of the felony for a man to be held guilty. For instance a man could be out of sight of a murder, but if he were keeping watch for the murderers and cognizant of their intent he would be held guilty.”

  The court was very silent now. Demelza’s heart was going colder and colder.

  “Further, in law, where several people join together to commit an act which is itself unlawful, and a worse crime comes from anything done in the prosecution of that unlawful design—then one and all are guilty of the worse crime, however abhorrent it may personally be to some of them and however little they may have had intent to commit it. It remains therefore for you only to decide on the evidence you have heard: first, whether in fact the prisoner was on the beach at the time of the wreck; second, whether he was there with others with the intent to strip the wreck; third, whether such a pillaging and riot and assault took place.”

  His extraordinary memory had absorbed it all like a sponge: now at a squeeze it all came out again—sometimes seeming to be a little in the prisoner’s favour, but mainly against him. One could not suspect Mr. Justice Lister of any prejudice: he was not loading the scales but merely assessing their respective weights and finding one side heavier than the other. He was performing the duty for which he had received his commission from the King, and by reason of which he held his elevated position in society.

  “The prisoner,” he ended, “has attempted to find mitigating circumstances for the crimes of riot and wrecking in the distress generally prevailing among poor people at this time. This is an irrelevance which you are in duty bound to ignore. He has devoted a part of his final plea to a defence of his own countryfolk, who are, in any case, not on trial at this assize at all. You may consider this a not unadmirable sentiment on his part, but you would be failing in your obligations to society if you allowed sympathy or a narrow emotional patriotism to influence you in any decision you deemed to be right. I will ask you now to discharge the duty which you have undertaken by your oaths, regardless of the consequences and regardless of everything except your desire to do justice between the Crown and the accused. Will you now consider your verdict.”

  In the general buzz that broke out Verity saw the judge glance at the clock. It was almost four and there were several cases yet to come. The jury put their heads together, whispering self-consciously, aware of everyone’s eyes on them. Several times Verity had thought Demelza was going to faint, but thankfully she had seen her gain a greater control of herself this last ten minutes. It was as if the worst had already happened and now she was reacting against the blow.

  “You may retire if you wish,” said the judge to the foreman.

  The foreman nervously thanked him and again consulted with his fellows. Then he leaned over to the usher and the usher went to the judge. The clerk of the court rapped with the hammer and the judge stood up, bowed and went out. The jury had decided to retire.

  ***

  It’s all over, thought Ross, and so much better if I’d stuck to my guns and made the speech I wanted. Hedging at the last moment. Cowardice and compromising. Pretending to myself that it was for Demelza. My own weakness and cowardice and Clymer’s damned overbearing manner. And it will avail absolutely nothing at all. Even if I had gone the whole hog and crawled on my belly the way he wanted. As it is, two stools. Not even the satisfaction of feelin
g that I told them exactly what I thought—about the trial, about the distress, about the wreck. Dirt in my mouth.

  The judge with his thin sour face. A human machine for administering the law. If I go to prison I really shall come out a revolutionary—climb up and slit his throat one night as he snores in bed. Far safer to hang me.

  And Demelza? Difficult to see her without turning one’s head. Just see the colour of her skirt out of the corner of my eye, and her hands on her lap. They can’t keep still, can they, darling? Perhaps I should have crawled, really crawled, for her sake. Mercy, mercy. The quality of mercy is not strained, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. What the devil are the jury arguing about? It must be perfectly plain to them, just as plain as to the judge, who practically directed them.

  Surprise to see Verity here. Must write to her and ask her to look after Demelza. Should have thought of that before. Demelza will take advice from her. Perhaps it was as well Julia died: wouldn’t have been nice to grow up knowing…But perhaps if she hadn’t died none of this would have happened. Perhaps Dwight wasn’t too far off the truth. Nonsense, I was in my right mind, sane as could be. Must write and thank him nevertheless. Sober young fellow. Pity he got in that mess.

  Suppose I shall get a few minutes with Demelza when it’s over. But what to say…Meetings like that are robbed of their sense by being so limited. What were the jury doing? Tis mightiest in the mightiest, it becomes the throned monarch better than his crown. His sceptre shows the force of temporal power…Temporal power. The Hon. Mr. Justice Lister. Temporal power…The jury were coming back.

  ***

  It had only been ten minutes, but, as Zacky said at the back of the court, it seemed like a month. They filed slowly in, the twelve good men and true, looking as self-conscious as when they went out, and the foreman had a guilty look, as if he thought himself liable to be charged with a lesser felony and brought before the court for judgment. Everyone stood while Mr. Justice Lister came back, and silence settled suddenly on the court as he sat down.