Do you wish them to be heard, Monsieur Lemerle?
LEMERLE.
Yes, certainly, your worship.
THE MAGISTRATE
(sighing, to the constable, who is buckling on his belt again).
Let the constable remain.
THE USHER (calling).
Madame Bayard.
[Enter MADAME BAYARD in her best clothes.
THE MAGISTRATE.
Your name, age, and occupation.
MADAME BAYARD.
Pauline Félicité Bayard, keeper of a boot shop at No. 28 Rue Beaujolais.
THE MAGISTRATE.
What age are you?
MADAME BAYARD.
Thirty. — [Stir in Court.
THE USHER.
Silence!
THE MAGISTRATE.
Swear to speak the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth. Raise your hand and say, “I swear.” (MADAME BAYARD raises her hand.) Take the glove off your right hand.... Usher, make her withdraw her glove.... (She takes off her glove.) Say, “I swear.”
MADAME BAYARD.
I swear.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
She does not seem to recognize me. She is too stuck up.
THE USHER.
Silence!
THE MAGISTRATE (to MADAME BAYARD).
Tell us what you have to say. (MADAME BAYARD is silent.) Tell us what you know of the scene which took place before Crainquebille’s arrest.
MADAME BAYARD (in a low voice), I was buying a bundle of leeks, and the dealer said to me, “Hurry up.” I replied...
THE MAGISTRATE.
Speak distinctly.
MADAME BAYARD.
I answered that, all the same, I must pick and choose. At that moment a customer entered the shop, and I went to serve her. It was a lady with a child.
THE MAGISTRATE.
Is that all you have to say?
MADAME BAYARD.
While the coster was having words with the policeman I was trying some blue shoes on a child of eighteen months; I was trying him on blue shoes...
THE MAGISTRATE (to LEMERLE).
Counsel, have you any questions to put to this witness? (LEMERLE makes a sign in the negative.) And you, Crainquebille? Have you any question to put to the witness?
CRAINQUEBILLE.
Yes. I have a question to put.
THE MAGISTRATE.
Put it.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
I have to ask Madame Bayard whether she heard me say “bloody copper.” She knows me. She is one of my customers. She can tell you if it is like me to use words like that. (MADAME BAYARD remains silent.) You can speak for me, Madame Bayard; you are an old customer of mine.
THE MAGISTRATE.
Do not address the witness. Address yourself to the Court.
CRAINQUEBILLE
(who does not understand these subtleties).
Come, Madame Bayard, we know one another. Proof of it is that you still owe me sevenpence. I don’t ask you for it now. I am above caring about sevenpence, thank God. — [Laughter and noise.
THE USHER.
Silence!
CRAINQUEBILLE.
But I want them to know that you are a customer.
MADAME BAYARD
(to CRAINQUEBILLE as she leaves the Court).
I do not know you.
THE MAGISTRATE (to the witness).
You may retire. (To LEMERLE.) This evidence does not in any way contradict the constable’s. Is there still another witness?
LEMERLE.
One only.
THE MAGISTRATE.
Do you insist on his being heard by the Court?
LEMERLE.
Your worship, I consider that the evidence you are about to hear is necessary for the demonstration of the truth. It is that of an eminent man, whose deposition is, to my thinking, important, essential, and decisive.
THE MAGISTRATE (with an air of resignation).
Call the last witness.
THE USHER.
Dr. Mathieu. — [Enter DR. MATHIEU.
THE MAGISTRATE.
Your name, age, and profession.
DR. MATHIEU.
Mathieu (Pierre Philippe David), sixty-two years of age, senior surgeon at the Ambroise Paré Hospital, officer of the Legion of Honour.
THE MAGISTRATE.
Swear to speak the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth. Raise your hand and say, “I swear.”
DR. MATHIEU.
I swear.
THE MAGISTRATE (to LEMERLE).
Counsel, what question do you wish put to the witness?
LEMERLE.
Dr. Mathieu was present at the time of Crainquebille’s arrest. I beg of your worship, that he be asked what he saw and what he heard.
THE MAGISTRATE.
You have heard the question?
DR. MATHIEU.
I found myself in the crowd that had collected round the police-constable who was ordering this costermonger to move on. The crush was such that it was impossible to move. So I became a witness of the scene which took place, and I can affirm that I did not lose a word of it. It was perfectly plain to me that the constable was mistaken; he was never insulted. The costermonger did not say what the constable thought he heard. My observation was corroborated by the people round me, who were unanimous in confirming the error. I went up to the constable, and warned him of his mistake. I drew his attention to the fact that this man had never insulted him, that, on the contrary, he had been very restrained in his language. The constable had him under arrest, and invited me somewhat roughly to follow him to the Court of Inquiry, which I did. I repeated my statement before the inspector.
THE MAGISTRATE (icily).
Good. You may sit down. Matra... (MATRA, having put down his belt, the object of his solicitude, enters the box.) Matra, when you proceeded to arrest the accused, did not Dr. Mathieu call your attention to the fact that you were mistaken? — (Silence on the part of MATRA.) YOU have just heard Dr. Mathieu’s evidence. I ask you, if, when you proceeded to arrest Crainquebille, did not Dr. Mathieu give you to understand that he believed you to be mistaken?
MATRA.
Mistaken? Mistaken? That is to say, your worship, he insulted me.
THE MAGISTRATE.
What did he say to you?
MATRA.
Why, he said, “bloody copper” — just like that.
THE MAGISTRATE (hurriedly).
You may retire.
[While MATRA refastens his belt there is a buzz of talk, and uproar, and a look of pained astonishment on DR. MATHIEU’S pale face.
LEMERLE
(waving his sleeves amid the din).
I leave the witness’s evidence with confidence to the judgment of the Court. [The din continues.
A VOICE IN THE COURT (heard amid the hubbub.)
He has got a smack in the eye, the bobby. You will get off, Crainquebille, old boy!
THE USHER.
Silence! — [Order is gradually restored.
THE MAGISTRATE.
These demonstrations are grossly improper. If they occur again I shall have the Court cleared immediately. Monsieur Lemerle, I will hear you now. (Counsel unfolds his brief.) Shall you be long?
LEMERLE.
No; it seems to me that the evidence given by the constable has singularly shortened my speech for the defence, and if this feeling is shared by the Court, I...
THE MAGISTRATE (very sharply), I asked you if you would be long.
LEMERLE.
Twenty minutes at most.
THE MAGISTRATE (resigned), I will hear you.
LEMERLE.
Gentlemen, I appreciate, I esteem, and I respect the executive of the law. An incident in Court, however characteristic it may be, cannot make me swerve from the favourable opinion I have of these modest servants of society, who, gaining but a mere pittance in the way of salary, endure fatigue and risk unceasing danger, and practise that daily heroism which is, perhaps, the most difficult
of all. They are old soldiers, they remain soldiers...
VOICE (from amid the crowd).
There he goes, pleading for the coppers. Why don’t you defend Crainquebille? Coward!
[An officer turns one of the public out of Court, THE VICTIM.
I tell you I said nothing. I tell you I never said a word!
LEMERLE (continuing).
No, I do not fail to acknowledge the valuable and unvaunted services rendered daily by the guardians of the law to the good citizens of Paris. And I should not have consented, gentlemen, to address you in defence of Crainquebille had I seen in him a man capable of insulting an old soldier. Let us look at the facts. My client is accused of having spoken the words “bloody copper.” What have we here — the national adjective, as it has been called, and a noun derived from the verb “cop,” meaning to catch or take. We have here, gentlemen, quite a curious little study in popular philology. If you open a slang dictionary you will read (he reads): “Bloody, a corruption of ‘ By our Lady’”; “Copper, a slang word for policeman, from ‘cop,’ to catch or take.” “Bloody copper” is an expression used by a certain class of people. But the whole question is this: — In what spirit did Crainquebille say it, or rather, did he say it at all? Allow me, gentlemen, to have my doubts. I do not suspect Constable Matra of any ill-intention. But his, as we have said, is a wearisome task. Sometimes he is tired, overworked, overstrained. In these conditions he may well be the victim of a kind of hallucination of the mind. And when it comes to his telling us that Dr. Mathieu, officer of the Legion of Honour, senior surgeon at the Ambroise Paré Hospital, a light of science and a man of the world, called out “bloody copper,” we are, indeed, forced to the conclusion that Matra is a prey to the malady of obsession, and, if the term is not too strong, to a frenzied delusion of persecution.
VOICES FROM THE COURT
(manifold and exuberant expressions of approbation).
Yes! Indeed! Yes! Say no more! it is plain enough! Good! Good!
THE USHER.
Silence!
THE MAGISTRATE.
All marks of approval or disapproval being strictly forbidden, I shall order the officers to clear the Court of all disturbers.
[Silence as of the grave.
LEMERLE.
Gentlemen, I have here before me a book that is an authority on the subject, “A Treatise on Hallucinations,” by Brierre de Boismont, Doctor of Medicine of Paris, Knight of the Legion of Honour, of the Military Order of Poland, etc. One learns therein that hallucinations of the auditory sense are frequent, very frequent, and that people quite sound mentally may suffer from them under the influence of violent emotion, of excessive fatigue, of mental or physical overstrain. And what is the usual, the most common form of these hallucinations of the auditory sense? What words did Constable Matra think he heard in this unusual condition, caused by mistaken aural perceptions? Dr. Brierre de Boismont will tell us. (He reads) “For the most part, these delusions are connected with the preoccupations, habits, and passions of the patient.” Take note, gentlemen, with the preoccupations, habits. Thus, during this period of hallucination, the surgeon hears the cries of his patients; the broker, the quotations on the Stock Exchange; the politician, the angry questions of his fellow-legislators; the police-officer, the cry of “bloody copper.” Is it necessary to dwell upon it, gentlemen? (A sign in the negative from the magistrate.) And even if Crainquebille did call out “bloody copper,” it remains to be seen whether the words on his lips bear a criminal interpretation. Gentlemen, on the question of breaking the law, it suffices that the infraction should be proved, the good or bad faith of the offender matters little. (Buzz of talk) But here we are before the Penal Code. It is a question of equity. What the Court proceeds against, what you punish, gentlemen, is the wrongful intention. Before a criminal Court the intention becomes the essential element of the crime. Well, in this matter did the intention exist? No, gentlemen. — [Noise grows louder.
THE USHER. —
Silence!
LEMERLE.
Crainquebille is the illegitimate child of an itinerant market-woman, brought very low by drink and evil living. He...
A VOICE IN THE CROWD.
He is insulting his mother now.
LEMERLE.
... was born an alcoholic, of a naturally limited intelligence; uneducated, he has merely instincts. And if you will allow me to say so, those instincts are not fundamentally evil, but they are brutish. His soul is embedded in a thick matrix. He has no exact understanding of what is said to him, nor of what he himself says. Words have but a rudimentary and confused meaning for him. He is one of those miserable beings whom La Bruyère depicts in such sombre colours, men one might take for brute beasts, they so grovel on the earth. You see him before you, brutalized by sixty years of grinding poverty. Gentlemen, you may well say that he is irresponsible.
THE MAGISTRATE.
The Court will now consider its judgment.
[Noise. The two coadjutors lean over the magistrate, who whispers.
CRAINQUEBILLE (to his counsel).
You must have some book-learning to talk like that, right off the reel, too. You speak well, but you speak too quickly. People cannot understand anything you say. Me, for instance, I don’t know what you have been talking about, but I am grateful all the same; only...
THE USHER.
Silence!
CRAINQUEBILLE.
It gives me a pain in my belly to hear him call out, that chap.... Only you ought to have mentioned that I owe no one anything. Because it’s true. I am an honest man. I owe no one a, farthing. After all, perhaps you did... perhaps you did mention it, and I did not hear.... And then, you ought to have asked them what they did with my barrow...
LEMERLE.
In your own interest, be quiet.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
Are they cackling over my sentence all this time? Well, they are a long time about it, God knows...
THE USHER.
Silence! — [Silence reigns.
THE MAGISTRATE
(reading from a pile of papers — notices of deaths, marriages, prospectuses, etc).
The Court...
A VOICE
(from the crowd, bursting upon the silence).
Acquits!...
THE MAGISTRATE (with a look of thunder).
... after deliberation, according to the law, taking into consideration the result of the documents in the case, and of the evidence heard in this Court, finds that on July 25, the day of his arrest, Crainquebille (Jérôme) committed the offence... (a dull and formidable murmur rises from the back of the Court; the magistrate greets this murmur with a glance like a sword-edge, and continues to read amid sudden silence)... of outrage against a member of the public force, in the exercise of his duty, an offence provided for and punishable under Article 224 of the Penal Code. In terms of the aforesaid Article he is therefore condemned to fourteen days’ imprisonment and a fine of forty shillings. The sitting is suspended. — [Uproar.
SEVERAL VOICES.
It is a bit stiff, all the same.... I should not have expected that.... It’s a bit thick, that.
CRAINQUEBILLE (to the warder).
So I am found guilty?
[The Court retires. When the warders are about to remove CRAINQUEBILLE, LEMERLE indicates that he has something to say, and sorting his papers, he talks, etc.
SCENE II.
CRAINQUEBILLE (to the warder).
I say! You! I say! Who’d have thought a fortnight ago this would happen to me. They are very polite, these gentlemen. They don’t use bad language, to give them their due, but you can’t explain things to them. There isn’t time. It isn’t their fault, but you don’t get time, do you? Why don’t you answer? (Silence.) Can’t you throw a word to a dog? Why don’t you speak? Can’t you open your mouth? Does your breath stink?
LEMERLE (to CRAINQUEBILLE).
Well, my friend, we have not much to complain about. We might have come off worse.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
That’s true, too.
LEMERLE.
What do you expect? You would not take my advice. Your reticent method was unfortunate to a degree. You would have done better to confess.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
I would have done so right enough, my lad. But what should I have confessed? — (Pensively.) Any how, it’s an odd thing to happen to me.
LEMERLE.
We must not make too much of it. Your case is not unusual — far from it.... Come, cheer up!
CRAINQUEBILLE
(as the warders take him away, turns hack and says).
You can’t tell me what they have done with my barrow?
AUBARREE.
What are you doing there?
LERMITE.
I am finishing my sketch. During the sitting I am forced to draw inside my hat. It is most inconvenient. So now I am adding a touch or two.
AUBARREE.
Is that Bourriche, the magistrate, you have got there?
LERMITE.
Was it he who just sentenced the costermonger? AUBARREE.
Yes, Bourriche!
LERMITE.
Queer that that should be the case.
LEMERLE (to the USHER).
Lamperière, do you know if the Goupy case in the Third Court has been adjourned?
THE USHER.
It is on now.
LEMERLE.
Blazes! I must fly! I will return shortly, when the Court sits again. I have to ask Bourriche to postpone a case.
LERMITE
(shyly, and feeling awkwardly in his pocket, calls to LEMERLE, who does not hear: him, but goes out).
Monsieur Lemerle, I should like to have a word with you. There, he has gone!
AUBARREE.
He will be here again when the Court resumes the sitting. What do you want to say to him?
LERMITE.
Nothing... I... Nothing. I say, old boy, that poor costermonger’s sentence was a bit hard, all the same.
AUBARREE.
Crainquebille’s? It is hard, I dare say. Yet it is not exceptionally hard. (Looking over his shoulder,) Are you going to make a picture out of that sketch?
LERMITE.
Yes. Scenes in Court are in fairly good demand. This morning I sold two barristers for a fiver. I have the note in my pocket.
AUBARREE.
You need not flourish it like that.
LERMITE.
Say what you like, Aubarrêe, the magistrate sentenced that poor man without proof...
Complete Works of Anatole France Page 394