Just at this moment there was a very strong feeling against Melmotte, owing perhaps as much to his having tumbled over poor Mr. Beauclerk in the House of Commons as to the stories of the forgeries he had committed, and the virtue of the day vindicated itself by declaring him to have been responsible for his actions when he took the poison. He was _felo de se_, and therefore carried away to the cross roads--or elsewhere. But it may be imagined, I think, that during that night he may have become as mad as any other wretch, have been driven as far beyond his powers of endurance as any other poor creature who ever at any time felt himself constrained to go. He had not been so drunk but that he knew all that happened, and could foresee pretty well what would happen. The summons to attend upon the Lord Mayor had been served upon him. There were some, among them Croll and Mr. Brehgert, who absolutely knew that he had committed forgery. He had no money for the Longestaffes, and he was well aware what Squercum would do at once. He had assured himself long ago,--he had assured himself indeed not very long ago,--that he would brave it all like a man. But we none of us know what load we can bear, and what would break our backs. Melmotte's back had been so utterly crushed that I almost think that he was mad enough to have justified a verdict of temporary insanity.

There was a very strong feeling against Melmotte, and he was declared to have been responsible for his actions when he took the poison.
All the same, I think that during that night he may have become as mad as any other wretch driven beyond his powers of endurance. He could foresee pretty well what would happen. He had committed forgery; he had no money for the Longestaffes, and was well aware what Squercum would do. Although he had assured himself that he would bear it all like a man, we none of us know what load we can bear, and what would break our backs.
