"the stranger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cliff Notes)

^^^^^^^^^^THE STRANGER: CHAPTER III

A year has passed since Meursault murdered the Arab. On a day "of brilliant sunshine" the trial is finally about to begin.

Meursault's lawyer assures him that the trial won't last more than two or three days. He explains that Meursault's case isn't the most important on the courtroom agenda, The case immediately following Meursault's--a case of parricide, where a son is being tried for killing his father--is much more controversial and will take more time.

What is Meursault's attitude toward his trial? Notice how he compares the sounds in the courtroom to those of a small-town "social," or dance following a concert. Meursault tells one of the policemen that the prospect of witnessing a trial "rather" interests him, indicating a sense of detachment, as if someone else were being tried and he was merely in attendance as a spectator.

In the courtroom he notices the light filtering through the venetian blinds. The heat in the room is stifling. He's aware of the jury members, who stare at him in the hope of detecting signs that will prove he's a criminal. He looks around the crowded courtroom but doesn't see anyone he knows. He can't understand why so many people have come to the court on his account. When he mentions to a policeman his surprise at the size of the crowd, the policeman tells him that it's the fault of the press. One of the journalists, a friend of the policeman, comes over to Meursault's table. He tells Meursault that during the summer, when there wasn't much other news to write about, the newspaper he works for has been featuring stories about Meursault's murder of the Arab. Most of the journalists, however, are present to cover the trial of the parricide; and Meursault has the feeling that, despite the crowds, his own trial isn't very important.

Almost all the people in the court seem to know one another, and Meursault has the distinct feeling of being a "gate-crasher," a stranger who doesn't belong. Do you think this would make Meursault feel more or less apprehensive about the outcome?

Meursault's lawyer arrives, followed by the public prosecutor. Then the three judges enter the court. Meursault notices that all the journalists are sitting at attention, their pens raised, except for one. This particular journalist seems younger than the others and has his eyes directly fixed on Meursault. The journalist's face is emotionless, and for a moment, as Meursault stares back, Meursault has the impression of "being scrutinized by [him]self."

Meursault has a hard time following the opening phases of the court procedure and doesn't pay careful attention until the court clerk reads off the list of witnesses. Then, one by one, as their names are called, the witnesses rise: Raymond, Masson, Salamano, the doorkeeper at the nursing home, Perez, Marie, and Celeste. Meursault notices that the robotlike woman who sat at his table in the restaurant is also present in the courtroom.

The main judge begins the proceedings. The judge describes himself "as a sort of umpire." The courtroom is his arena: the lawyer, the prosecutor, the jury, and the witnesses are participants in the game. The journalists are the spectators. But it's a game, you will find, that Meursault refuses to play. Whether a jury finds him guilty or innocent isn't particularly important to him.

The examination begins. Meursault is forced to answer the same questions he's already answered a hundred times: name, occupation, residence. Though he admits he's sick of the formality of all these questions, he realizes it's important for him to identify himself, if only because it would be terrible for the court to be trying the wrong man. Notice, as you read, how much of Meursault's personality--his naivete, the shortness of his attention span--resembles that of a young child. You can see his concentration shift, even as the judge begins asking him these questions. His focus drifts to the spectators in the courtroom, to the journalists, and to the jury.

The judge shifts the line of questioning to the subject of Meursault's relationship with his mother. Why did Meursault send his mother to the nursing home? Did the parting cause Meursault unhappiness? Meursault tries to explain that neither he nor his mother expected much from each other and that both of them easily adjusted to the change.

It's the prosecutor's turn now. He asks Meursault whether he'd returned to the stream with the intention of killing the Arab. Meursault answers no but makes no attempt to explain himself further. In response to another question about why he was carrying a revolver and why he had gone back to the precise spot, Meursault observes that it was simply a matter of chance. The prosecutor dismisses Meursault abruptly and with disdain, as if the simplicity of Meursault's answers is somehow proof of his guilt.

NOTE: Some readers feel that Camus uses the trial as a way of examining the hypocrisy and cynicism of judicial procedures. The prosecutor isn't interested in finding out the truth; he just wants to win the case. Meursault's loyalty to the truth, however, prevents him from playing the courtroom game. He refuses to tell the prosecutor, the judge, or even his own lawyer what they want to hear.

After a short adjournment, the warden from the nursing home is called to the stand. In response to the judge's questions, the warden states that Meursault's mother had frequently complained about her son's treatment of her. He notes that Meursault showed no interest in seeing his mother's body and that he hadn't cried at the funeral.

The judge asks the prosecutor if he has any questions to pose to the warden. The prosecutor bellows triumphantly, "I have all I want," and glowers at Meursault, who has a sudden impulse to burst into tears. For the first time, Meursault realizes how much "all these people" hate him. Based on what you know about Meursault, does this sudden rush of emotion seem out of character?

The next witness is the doorkeeper at the home. He states that Meursault smoked cigarettes, drank coffee, slept, and showed no interest in seeing his mother's body. Meursault's lawyer tries to win a point with the jury by establishing the fact that it was the doorkeeper who offered Meursault a cup of coffee. The prosecutor, however, makes light of this fact; if offered coffee, Meursault should have refused, out of respect for his dead mother.

Thomas Perez, Meursault's mother's companion at the home, takes the witness stand. He tells the court he was too preoccupied with his own feelings to take much notice of what Meursault was doing during the funeral. He's fairly certain, however, that Meursault didn't cry.

Perez is followed by Celeste, the restaurant owner. He describes Meursault as a person who wasn't "one to waste his breath," but he doesn't think Meursault was particularly secretive. He offers his opinion of the murder as "just an accident, or a stroke of bad luck." (Is Camus relating this to the newspaper clipping in Meursault's cell, in which a man is "accidentally" murdered by his mother and sister?) When the judge cuts Celeste short with the comment that the purpose of the trial "is to try such accidents," Celeste feels embarrassed at not being able to help Meursault more. For his well-intentioned effort, Meursault has the impulse to kiss him.

Marie is the next witness. Not surprisingly, the prosecutor's questions involve the day Meursault and Marie first slept together. The prosecutor observes that their affair began on the day after Meursault's mother's funeral. Not only did they sleep together, but they went to the movies to see--a comedy! A stunned silence fills the courtroom. The prosecutor turns to the jury and repeats this damning bit of evidence. Marie bursts into tears, claiming that the prosecutor misunderstood her statement and that she was certain Meursault hadn't done anything wrong. But no one is listening. The court officer leads her away and the trial continues.

Masson and Salamano are the next witnesses. Their testimony, although favorable to Meursault, seems to make no impression on the jury.

Raymond is the last witness. He tries to explain that it was he, not Meursault, who had an argument with the Arab, and that Meursault's presence on the beach was merely a coincidence. But didn't Meursault, the prosecutor asks, write the letter to Raymond's girlfriend? Raymond answers that this also was due to chance. Was it also by chance, the prosecutor goes on, that Meursault did not intervene when Raymond was beating up his mistress? And that Meursault testified on Raymond's behalf at the police station? The prosecutor attempts to depict Raymond as a man who "lived on the immoral earnings of women." At the prosecutor's prodding, Raymond admits that he and Meursault are "the best of pals." Consequently, the prosecutor claims, Meursault killed the Arab "in pursuance of some sordid vendetta in the underworld of prostitutes and pimps." In the prosecutor's eyes, Meursault is "an inhuman monster, wholly without a moral sense."

Meursault's lawyer leaps up to defend his client. Meursault is on trial for murdering an Arab, he claims, not for the way he acted at his mother's funeral. The prosecutor can't believe that Meursault's lawyer doesn't see the connection between these two aspects of the case. A man who didn't cry at his mother's funeral--according to the prosecutor--is surely "a criminal at heart."

Is there anything that could be said in Meursault's favor at this point? Why doesn't Meursault's lawyer argue that his client killed the Arab in self-defense? Some readers feel that if Meursault is guilty because he didn't cry at his mother's funeral, then others are guilty as well: Marie, for suggesting they see the Fernandel movie; the doorkeeper, for offering Meursault a cup of coffee; Raymond, for asking Meursault to write the letter to his girlfriend. But in each of these instances, Meursault had the chance to refuse. This trial could be regarded as the consequence of his indifference.

The court adjourns for the day. Returning to his cell, Meursault remembers what it felt like on other summer evenings when he would sit outdoors and watch the sky change color. The evening is a special time for him, and all the sounds of the town--the cries of sandwich vendors, the bird calls, the shouts of the newspaper boys--have a special meaning. He realizes that, previously, he'd been truly content with his life, but in a way he never really appreciated it. Now he realizes that all these small pleasures have been taken away from him forever. Instead of a night of dreamless sleep, he can only look forward to "a night haunted by forebodings of the coming day."

^^^^^^^^^^THE STRANGER: CHAPTER IV