The Last Chronicle of Barset [39]
were crowds of people about. There had been men in the yard, and others standing about on the stairs, and the public room was full of men who were curious to see the clergyman who had stolen twenty pounds, and to hear what would be the result of the case before the magistrates. He must be committed; so, at least said everybody; but then there would be the question of bail. Would the magistrates let him out on bail, and who would be the bailsmen? 'Why are the people here?' said Mr Crawley.
'I suppose it is a custom when the magistrates are sitting,' said his wife.
'They have come to see the degradation of a clergyman,' said he; --'and they will not be disappointed.'
'Nothing can degrade but guilt,' said his wife.
'Yes--misfortune can degrade, and poverty. A man is degraded when the cares of the world press so heavily upon him that he cannot rouse himself. They have come to look at me as though I were a hunted beast.'
'It is but their custom always on such days.'
'They have not always had a clergyman before them as a criminal.' Then he was silent for a while, while she was chafing his cold hands. 'Would that I were dead, before they brought me to this! Would that I were dead!'
'Is it not right, dear, that we should bear all that He sends us?'
'Would that I were dead!' he repeated. 'The load is too heavy for me to bear, and I would that I were dead.'
The time seemed very long before Thompson returned and asked them to accompany him into the big room. When he did so, Mr Crawley grasped hold of chair as though he had resolved that he would not go.
But his wife whispered a word to him, and he obeyed her. 'He will follow me,' she said to the policeman. And in that way they went from the smaller room into the large one. Thompson went first; Mrs Crawley with her veil down came next; and the wretched man followed his wife, with his eyes fixed upon the ground and his hands clasped together upon his breast. He could at first have seen nothing, and could hardly have known where he was when they placed him in a chair. She, with better courage, contrived to look round through her veil, and saw that there was a long board or table covered with green cloth, and that six or seven gentlemen were sitting at one end of it, while there seemed to be a crowd standing along the sides and about the room. Her husband was seated at the other end of the table, near the corner, and round the corner--so that she might be close to him--her chair had been placed. On the other side of him there was another chair, now empty, intended for any professional gentleman whom he might choose to employ.
There were five magistrates sitting there. Lord Lufton, from Framley, was in the chair;--a handsome man, still young, who was very popular in the county. The cheque which had been cashed had borne his signature, and he had consequently expressed his intention of not sitting on the board; but Mr Walker, desirous of having him there, had overruled him, showing that the loss was not his loss. The cheque, if stolen, had not been stolen from him. He was not the prosecutor. 'No, by Jove,' said Lord Lufton, 'if I could quash the whole thing, I would do so at once!'
'You can't do that, my lord, but you may help us at the board,' said Mr Walker.
Then there was the Hon George De Courcy, Lord De Courcy's brother, from Castle Courcy. Lord De Courcy did not live in the county, but his brother did so, and endeavoured to maintain the glory of the family by the discretion of his conduct. He was not, perhaps, among the wisest of men, but he did very well as a county magistrate, holding his tongue, keeping his eyes open, and, on such occasions as this, obeying Mr Walker in all things. Dr Tempest was also there, the rector of the parish, he being both magistrate and clergyman. There were many in Silverbridge who declared that Dr Tempest would have done far better to stay away when a brother clergyman was thus to be brought before the bench; but it had been long since Dr Tempest had cared what was said about him in Silverbridge. He had become
'I suppose it is a custom when the magistrates are sitting,' said his wife.
'They have come to see the degradation of a clergyman,' said he; --'and they will not be disappointed.'
'Nothing can degrade but guilt,' said his wife.
'Yes--misfortune can degrade, and poverty. A man is degraded when the cares of the world press so heavily upon him that he cannot rouse himself. They have come to look at me as though I were a hunted beast.'
'It is but their custom always on such days.'
'They have not always had a clergyman before them as a criminal.' Then he was silent for a while, while she was chafing his cold hands. 'Would that I were dead, before they brought me to this! Would that I were dead!'
'Is it not right, dear, that we should bear all that He sends us?'
'Would that I were dead!' he repeated. 'The load is too heavy for me to bear, and I would that I were dead.'
The time seemed very long before Thompson returned and asked them to accompany him into the big room. When he did so, Mr Crawley grasped hold of chair as though he had resolved that he would not go.
But his wife whispered a word to him, and he obeyed her. 'He will follow me,' she said to the policeman. And in that way they went from the smaller room into the large one. Thompson went first; Mrs Crawley with her veil down came next; and the wretched man followed his wife, with his eyes fixed upon the ground and his hands clasped together upon his breast. He could at first have seen nothing, and could hardly have known where he was when they placed him in a chair. She, with better courage, contrived to look round through her veil, and saw that there was a long board or table covered with green cloth, and that six or seven gentlemen were sitting at one end of it, while there seemed to be a crowd standing along the sides and about the room. Her husband was seated at the other end of the table, near the corner, and round the corner--so that she might be close to him--her chair had been placed. On the other side of him there was another chair, now empty, intended for any professional gentleman whom he might choose to employ.
There were five magistrates sitting there. Lord Lufton, from Framley, was in the chair;--a handsome man, still young, who was very popular in the county. The cheque which had been cashed had borne his signature, and he had consequently expressed his intention of not sitting on the board; but Mr Walker, desirous of having him there, had overruled him, showing that the loss was not his loss. The cheque, if stolen, had not been stolen from him. He was not the prosecutor. 'No, by Jove,' said Lord Lufton, 'if I could quash the whole thing, I would do so at once!'
'You can't do that, my lord, but you may help us at the board,' said Mr Walker.
Then there was the Hon George De Courcy, Lord De Courcy's brother, from Castle Courcy. Lord De Courcy did not live in the county, but his brother did so, and endeavoured to maintain the glory of the family by the discretion of his conduct. He was not, perhaps, among the wisest of men, but he did very well as a county magistrate, holding his tongue, keeping his eyes open, and, on such occasions as this, obeying Mr Walker in all things. Dr Tempest was also there, the rector of the parish, he being both magistrate and clergyman. There were many in Silverbridge who declared that Dr Tempest would have done far better to stay away when a brother clergyman was thus to be brought before the bench; but it had been long since Dr Tempest had cared what was said about him in Silverbridge. He had become