'And whatever you may hear from the talented and celebrated counsel for the defence,' Ippolit Kirillovitch could not resist adding, 'whatever eloquent and touching appeals may be made to your sensibilities, remember that at this moment you are in a temple of justice. Remember that you are the champions of our justice, the champions of our holy Russia, of her principles, her family, everything that she holds sacred! Yes, you represent Russia here at this moment, and your verdict will be heard not in this hall only but will re-echo throughout the whole of Russia, and all Russia will hear you, as her champions and her judges, and she will be encouraged or disheartened by your verdict. Do not disappoint Russia and her expectations. Our fatal troika dashes on in her headlong flight perhaps to destruction and in all Russia for long past men have stretched out imploring hands and called a halt to its furious reckless course. And if other nations stand aside from that troika that may be, not from respect, as the poet would fain believe, but simply from horror. From horror, perhaps from disgust. And well it is that they stand aside, but maybe they will cease one day to do so and will form a firm wall confronting the hurrying apparition and will check the frenzied rush of our lawlessness, for the sake of their own safety, enlightenment and civilisation. Already we have heard voices of alarm from Europe, they already begin to sound. Do not tempt them! Do not heap up their growing hatred by a sentence justifying the murder of a father by his son I
Though Ippolit Kirillovitch was genuinely moved, he wound up his speech with this rhetorical appeal--and the effect produced by him was extraordinary. When he had finished his speech, he went out hurriedly and, as I have mentioned before, almost fainted in the adjoining room. There was no applause in the court, but serious persons were pleased. The ladies were not so well satisfied, though even they were pleased with his eloquence, especially as they had no apprehensions as to the upshot of the trial and had full trust in Fetyukovitch. 'He will speak at last and of course carry all before him.'
Everyone looked at Mitya; he sat silent through the whole of the prosecutor's speech, clenching his teeth, with his hands clasped, and his head bowed. Only from time to time he raised his head and listened, especially when Grushenka was spoken of. When the prosecutor mentioned Rakitin's opinion of her, a smile of contempt and anger passed over his face and he murmured rather audibly, 'The Bernards!' When Ippolit Kirillovitch described how he had questioned and tortured him at Mokroe, Mitya raised his head and listened with intense curiosity. At one point he seemed about to jump up and cry out, but controlled himself and only shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. People talked afterwards of the end of the speech, of the prosecutor's feat in examining the prisoner at Mokroe, and jeered at Ippolit Kirillovitch. 'The man could not resist boasting of his cleverness,' they said.
The court was adjourned, but only for a short interval, a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes at most. There was a hum of conversation and exclamations in the audience. I remember some of them.
'A weighty speech,' a gentleman in one group observed gravely.
'He brought in too much psychology,' said another voice.
'But it was all true, the absolute truth!'
'Yes, he is first rate at it.'
'He summed it all up.'
'Yes, he summed us up, too,' chimed in another voice, 'Do you remember, at the beginning of his speech, making out we were all like Fyodor Pavlovitch?'
'And at the end, too. But that was all rot.'
'And obscure too.'
'He was a little too much carried away.'
'It's unjust, it's unjust.'
'No, it was smartly done, anyway. He's had long to wait, but he's had his say, ha ha!'
'What will the counsel for the defence say?'
In another group I heard:
'He had no business to make a thrust at the Petersburg man like that; 'appealing to your sensibilities’--do you remember?'
'Yes, that was awkward of him.'
'He was in too great a hurry.'
'He is a nervous man.'
'We laugh, but what must the prisoner be feeling?'
'Yes, what must it be for Mitya?'
In a third group:
'What lady is that, the fat one, with the lorgnette, sitting at the end?'
'She is a general's wife, divorced, I know her.'
'That's why she has the lorgnette.'
'She is not good for much.'
'Oh no, she is a piquante little woman.'
'Two places beyond her there is a little fair woman, she is prettier.'
'They caught him smartly at Mokroe, didn't they, eh?'
'Oh, it was smart enough. We've heard it before, how often he has told the story at people's houses!
'And he couldn't resist doing it now. That's vanity.'
'He is a man with a grievance, he he!'
'Yes, and quick to take offence. And there was too much rhetoric, such long sentences.'
'Yes, he tries to alarm us, he kept trying to alarm us. Do you remember about the troika? Something about ‘They have Hamlets, but we have, so far, only Karamazovs!’ That was cleverly said!'
'That was to propitiate the liberals. He is afraid of them.'
'Yes, and he is afraid of the lawyer, too.'
'Yes, what will Fetyukovitch say?'
'Whatever he says, he won't get round our peasants.'
'Don't you think so?'
A fourth group:
'What he said about the troika was good, that piece about the other nations.'
'And that was true what he said about other nations not standing it.'
'What do you mean?'
'Why, in the English Parliment a Member got up last week and speaking about the Nihilists asked the Ministry whether it was not high time to intervene, to educate this barbarous people. Ippolit was thinking of him, I know he was. He was talking about that last week.'
'Not an easy job.'
'Not an easy job? Why not?'
'Why, we'd shut up Kronstadt and not let them have any corn. Where would they get it?'
'In America. They get it from America now.'
'Nonsense!'
But the bell rang, all rushed to their places. Fetyukovitch mounted the tribune.
Chapter 10
The Speech for the Defence. An Argument that Cuts Both Ways
ALL was hushed as the first words of the famous orator rang out. The eyes of the audience were fastened upon him. He began very simply and directly, with an air of conviction, but not the slightest trace of conceit. He made no attempt at eloquence, at pathos, or emotional phrases. He was like a man speaking in a circle of intimate and sympathetic friends. His voice was a fine one, sonorous and sympathetic, and there was something genuine and simple in the very sound of it. But everyone realised at once that the speaker might suddenly rise to genuine pathos and 'pierce the heart with untold power.' His language was perhaps more irregular than Ippolit Kirillovitch's, but he spoke without long phrases, and indeed, with more precision. One thing did not please the ladies: he kept bending forward, especially at the beginning of his speech, not exactly bowing, but as though he were about to dart at his listeners, bending his long spine in half, as though there were a spring in the middle that enabled him to bend almost at right angles.
At the beginning of his speech he spoke rather disconnectedly, without system, one may say, dealing with facts separately, though, at the end, these facts formed a whole. His speech might be divided into two parts, the first consisting of criticism in refutation of the charge, sometimes malicious and sarcastic. But in the second half he suddenly changed his tone, and even his manner, and at once rose to pathos. The audience seemed on the lookout
