Published online by Cambridge University Press: 05 August 2015
“The judge, the jury, the avenger of blood, the prisoner, the witnesses – all were gathered together within one building” (306; ch. 32): at the melodramatic acme of Elizabeth Gaskell's 1848 Mary Barton, the reader's energies have similarly converged upon Jem Wilson's trial for the murder of Harry Carson. Yet despite the narrative significance of the courtroom testimonies, once Jem has pled not guilty, the narrator unexpectedly mutes the prosecutor's opening speech and substitutes instead what seems to be a lowbrow debate about the defendant's physical appearance. The first speaker insists that any justly accused man will have “some expression of [his] crimes” in his face, and observing Jem's “low, resolute brow” and “white compressed lips,” he comments that he has “seldom seen one with such marks of Cain on his countenance as the man at the bar” (309; ch. 32). The second observer disagrees, asserting that Jem's forehead is not so low as it might initially seem and is in fact rather square, “which some people say is a good sign” (309; ch. 32). He asserts that he is “no physiognomist” and proposes instead that Jem's agitated and depressed visage is less the sign of a depraved character than the result of inner turmoil and a bad haircut.