# The Red and the Black/Chapter 71

CHAPTER LXXI
THE TRIAL
Saint Beuve.
The day that madame de Rênal and Mathilde feared so much arrived at last.
Their terror was intensified by the strange appearance of the town, which had its emotional effect even upon Fouqué's sturdy soul. All the province had rushed to Besançon to see the trial of this romantic case.
There had been no room left in the inns for some days. M. the president of the assizes, was besieged by requests for tickets; all the ladies in the town wanted to be present at the trial. Julien's portrait was hawked about the streets, etc., etc.
Mathilde was keeping in reserve for this supreme moment a complete autograph letter from my lord, bishop of ——. This prelate, who governed the Church of France and created its bishops, was good enough to ask for Julien's acquittal. On the eve of the trial, Mathilde took this letter to the all-powerful grand vicar.
When she was going away in tears at the end of the interview, M. de Frilair at last emerged from his diplomatic reserve and almost shewed some emotion himself. "I will be responsible for the jury's verdict," he said to her. "Out of the twelve persons charged with the investigation of ​whether your friend's crime is made out, and above all, whether there was premeditation, I can count six friends who are devoted to my fortunes, and I have given them to understand that they have it in their power to promote me to the episcopate. Baron Valenod, whom I have made mayor of Verrières, can do just as he likes with two of his officials, MM. de Moirod, and de Cholin. As a matter of fact, fate has given us for this business two jurymen of extremely loose views; but, although ultra-Liberals, they are faithful to my orders on great occasions, and I have requested them to vote like M. Valenod. I have learnt that a sixth juryman, a manufacturer, who is immensely rich, and a garrulous Liberal into the bargain, has secret aspirations for a contract with the War Office, and doubtless he would not like to displease me. I have had him told that M. de Valenod knows my final injunctions."
"And who is this M. Valenod?" said Mathilde, anxiously.
"If you knew him, you could not doubt our success. He is an audacious speaker, coarse, impudent, with a natural gift for managing fools. 1814 saw him in low water, and I am going to make a prefect of him. He is capable of beating the other jurymen if they do not vote his way."
Mathilde felt a little reassured.
Another discussion awaited her in the evening. To avoid the prolongation of an unpleasant scene, the result of which, in his view, was absoluely certain, Julien had resolved not to make a speech.
"My advocate will speak," he said to Mathilde. "I shall figure too long anyway as a laughing-stock to all my enemies. These provincials have been shocked by the rapidity of my success, for which I have to thank you, and believe me, there is not one of them who does not desire my conviction, though he would be quite ready to cry like an idiot when I am taken to my death."
"They desire to see you humiliated. That is only too true," answered Mathilde, "but I do not think they are at all cruel. My presence at Besançon, and the sight of my sufferings have interested all the women; your handsome face will do the rest. If you say a few words to your judges, the whole audience will be on your side, etc., etc."
At nine o'clock on the following day, when Julien left his ​prison for the great hall of the Palais de Justice, the gendarmes had much difficulty in driving away the immense crowd that was packed in the courtyard. Julien had slept well. He was very calm, and experienced no other sentiment except a sense of philosophic pity towards that crowd of jealous creatures who were going to applaud his death sentence, though without cruelty. He was very surprised when, having been detained in the middle of the crowd more than a quarter of an hour, he was obliged to admit that his presence affected the public with a tender pity. He did not hear a single unpleasant remark. "These provincials are less evil than I thought," he said to himself.
As he entered the courtroom, he was struck by the elegance of the architecture. It was real Gothic, with a number of pretty little columns hewn out of stone with the utmost care. He thought himself in England.
But his attention was soon engrossed by twelve or fifteen pretty women, who sat exactly opposite the prisoner's seat and filled the three balconies above the judges and the jury. As he turned round towards the public, he saw that the circular gallery that dominated the amphitheatre was filled with women, the majority were young and seemed very pretty, their eyes were shining and full of interest. The crowd was enormous throughout the rest of the room. People were knocking against the door, and the janitors could not obtain silence.
When all the eyes that were looking for Julien observed where he was, and saw him occupying the slightly raised place which is reserved for the prisoner, he was greeted by a murmur of astonishment and tender interest.
You would have taken him for under twenty on this day. He was dressed very simply, but with a perfect grace. His hair and his forehead were charming. Mathilde had insisted on officiating personally at his toilette. Julien's pallor was extreme. Scarcely was he seated in this place than he heard people say all over the room, "Great heavens! how young he is! … But he's quite a child! … He is much better than his portrait."
"Prisoner," said the gendarme who was sitting on his right, "do you see those six ladies in that balcony?" The gendarme pointed out a little gallery that jutted out over the amphitheatre where the jury were placed. "That's madame, the ​prefect's wife," continued the gendarme. "Next to her, madame the marquise de M——. She likes you well: I have heard her speak to the judge of first instance. Next to her is madame Derville."
"Madame Derville!" exclaimed Julien, and a vivid blush spread over his forehead. "When she leaves here," he thought, "she will write to madame de Rênal." He was ignorant of madame de Rênal's arrival at Besançon. The witnesses were quickly heard. After the first words of the opening of the prosecution by the advocate-general, two of the ladies in the little balcony just opposite Julien burst into tears. Julien noticed that madame Derville did not break down at all. He remarked, however, that she was very red.
The advocate-general was indulging in melodrama in bad French over the barbarity of the crime that had been perpetrated. Julien noticed that madame Derville's neighbours seemed to manifest a keen disapproval. Several jurors, who were apparently acquainted with the ladies, spoke to them and seemed to reassure them. "So far as it goes, that is certainly a good omen," thought Julien.
Up to the present, he had felt himself steeped in an unadulterated contempt for all the persons who were present at the trial. This sentiment of disgust was intensified by the stale eloquence of the advocate-general. But the coldness of Julien's soul gradually disappeared before the marks of interest of which he was evidently the object.
He was satisfied with the sturdy demeanour of his advocate. "No phrases," he said to him in a whisper, as he was about to commence his speech.
"All the bombast which our opponent has stolen from Bossuet and lavished upon you," said the advocate, "has done you good."
As a matter of fact, he had scarcely spoken for five minuten before practically all the women had their handkerchiefs is their hands. The advocate was encouraged, and addressed some extremely strong remarks to the jury. Julien shuddered. He felt on the point of breaking into tears. "My God," he hought, "what would my enemies say?"
He was on the point of succumbing to the emotion which was overcoming him, when, luckily for him, he surprised an insolent look from M. the baron de Valenod.
​"That rogue's eyes are gleaming," he said to himself "What a triumph for that base soul! If my crime had only produced this one result, it would be my duty to curse it. God knows what he will say about it to madame de Rênal."
This idea effaced all others. Shortly afterwards Julien was brought back to reality by the public's manifestation of applause. The advocate had just finished his speech. Julien remembered that it was good form to shake hands with him. The time had passed rapidly.
They brought in refreshments for the advocate and the prisoner. It was only then that Julien was struck by the fact that none of the women had left the audience to go and get dinner.
"Upon my word, I am dying of hunger," said the advocate. "And you?"
"I, too," answered Julien.
"See, there's madame, the prefect's wife, who is also getting her dinner," said the advocate, as he pointed out the little balcony. "Keep up your courage; everything is going all right." The court sat again.
Midnight struck as the president was summing up. The president was obliged to pause in his remarks. Amid the silence and the anxiety of all present, the reverberation of the clock filled the hall.
"So my last day is now beginning," thought Julien. He soon felt inflamed by the idea of his duty. Up to the present he had controlled his emotion and had kept his resolution not to speak. When the president of the assizes asked him if he had anything to add, he got up. He saw in front of him the eyes of madame Derville, which seemed very brilliant in the artificial light. "Can she by any chance be crying?" he thought.
"Gentlemen of the jury!
"I am induced to speak by my fear of that contempt which I thought, at the very moment of my death, I should be able to defy. Gentlemen, I have not the honour of belonging to your class. You behold in me a peasant who has rebelled against the meanness of his fortune.
"I do not ask you for any pardon," continued Julien, with a firmer note in his voice. "I am under no illusions. Death awaits me; it will be just. I have brought myself to make an ​attempt on the life of the woman who is most worthy of all reverence and all respect. Madame de Rênal was a mother to me. My crime was atrocious, and it was premeditated. Consequently, I have deserved death, gentlemen of the jury. But even if I were not so guilty, I see among you men who, without a thought for any pity that may be due to my youth, would like to use me as a means for punishing and discouraging for ever that class of young man who, though born in an inferior class, and to some extent oppressed by poverty, have none the less been fortunate enough to obtain a good education, and bold enough to mix with what the pride of the rich calls Society.
"That is my crime, gentlemen, and it will be punished with even more severity, inasmuch as, in fact, I am very far from being judged by my peers. I do not see on the jury benches any peasant who has made money, but only indignant bourgeois.…"
Julien talked in this strain for twenty minutes. He said everything he had on his mind. The advocate-general, who aspired to the favours of the aristocracy, writhed in his seat. But in spite of the somewhat abstract turn which Julien had given to his speech, all the women burst out into tears. Even madame Derville put her handkerchief to her eyes. Before finishing, Julien alluded again to the fact of his premeditation, to his repentance, and to the respect and unbounded filial admiration which, in happier days, he had entertained for madame de Rênal.… Madame Derville gave a cry and fainted.
One o'clock was striking when the jury retired to their room. None of the women had left their places; several men had tears in their eyes. The conversations were at first very animated, but, as there was a delay in the verdict of the jury, their general fatigue gradually began to invest the gathering with an atmosphere of calm. It was a solemn moment; the lights grew less brilliant. Julien, who was very tired, heard people around him debating the question of whether this delay was a good or a bad omen. He was pleased to see that all the wishes were for him. The jury did not come back, and yet not a woman left the court.
When two o'clock had struck, a great movement was heard. The little door of the jury room opened. M. the baron de ​Valenod advanced with a slow and melodramatic step. He was followed by all the jurors. He coughed, and then declared on his soul and conscience that the jury's unanimous verdict was that Julien Sorel was guilty of murder, and of murder with premeditation. This verdict involved the death penalty, which was pronounced a moment afterwards. Julien looked at his watch, and remembered M. de Lavalette. It was a quarter past two. "To-day is Friday," he thought.
"Yes, but this day is lucky for the Valenod who has got me convicted.… I am watched too well for Mathilde to manage to save me like madame de Lavalette saved her husband.… So in three days' time, at this very hour, I shall know what view to take about the great perhaps."
At this moment he heard a cry and was called back to the things of this world. The women around him were sobbing: he saw that all faces were turned towards a little gallery built into the crowning of a Gothic pilaster. He knew later that Mathilde had concealed herself there. As the cry was not repeated, everybody began to look at Julien again, as the gendarmes were trying to get him through the crowd.
"Let us try not to give that villain Valenod any chance of laughing at me," thought Julien. "With what a contrite sycophantic expression he pronounced the verdict which entails the death penalty, while that poor president of the assizes, although he has been a judge for years and years, had tears in his eyes as he sentenced me. What a joy the Valenod must find in revenging himself for our former rivalry for madame de Renal's favors! … So I shall never see her again! The thing is finished.… A last good-bye between us is impossible I feel it.… How happy I should have been to have told her all the horror I feel for my crime!
"Mere words. I consider myself justly convicted."