Leaves of a life, being the reminiscences of Montagu Williams, Q.C

j

K.

•
_•

.

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.

to

Gbe Xibrarp

of tbe

of Toronto

Bertram 1R. Davis

from tbe boohs of

tbe late Xionel Davis, Ik.C.

LEAVES OF A LIFE

BEING THE

REMINISCENCES OF MONTAGU WILLIAMS, Q.C.

LEAVES OF A LIFE

BEING

THE REMINISCENCES OF

MONTAGU WILLIAMS, Q.C.

IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. I.

BOSTON AND NEW TOEK

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY

Bilu-rsilic ^rcss, Civmbriigc
1890

CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS,
CRYSTAL PALACE MESS.

13 tDi rat to it.

TO THE BEST AND GENTLEST OF HER GENTLE SEX ;—

BUT FOR WHOSE FAITHFUL FRIENDSHIP IN THE SPRING OF 1886

THIS LIFE WOULD NOT, IN ALL PROBABILITY.

HAVE BEEN SPARED;—
THIS BOOK IS MOST GRATEFULLY DEDICATED.

9, Aldford Street, Park Lane.
Jan. 1st, 1890.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

H.EC OLIM MESIINISSE JUVABIT.

PAGE

My birthplace — A legal family — My father's one idea — We

move from Somersetshire to Berkshire — Our quaint old

house in the Cloisters at Windsor — Xeighbours and friends

-Visit of Lord George Loftus — Why he came amongst us

—His habits and customs — Running up to London — How

his lordship was "done"-— Eton — Some popular "Tugs"

-The last Eton " Montem " — The scene in the grounds —

Levying " Salt "• —Her Majesty's contribution — Why the

institution perished ... . . .1

CHAPTER II.

ILLE TERRARUM JIIHI PR.ETER OMNES AXGULUS RIDET.

More about Eton — School persecutions — Cricket and football
matches, and what followed — I am elected a King's
Scholar - - The masters — Concerning Bursar Bethell —
How we rang old Plumptree's bell — " Sock " shops—
Spankie's love for the aristocracy — Heroism of a fag—
" Cellar " and " Combie "—The "long glass "—Persons we
patronised — My tutor — The nicknames he gave us — His
method of punishment — Threepence or half a sheep-
Impudence of young Seale-Hayne — The prtuposter — Story
of Dr. Keate — My only Hogging — My tutor's version of tin1
affair — The portrait at the Garrick Club . . . .11

viii CONTENTS.

CHAPTEK III.

Qui FIT, MAECENAS, UT NEMO, QUAM SIBI SORTEM
SEU RATIO DEDERIT, SEU FORS OBJECERIT, ILLA
CONTENTUS YIVAT, LAUDET DIVERSA SEQUENTES 1

PAGE

I leave school — Donation to the head master — How should
I earn my living1? — I interview Montagu Chambers, Q.C.
— I become a master at Ipswich — The work distasteful — I
resolve to become a soldier — A commission obtained for me
-Eccentric Colonel Sibthorp — Ordered off to Portsmouth
-Detachment duty off Tipner— The " Forlorn Hope"-
The order from the Horse Guards — Indignation of Sibthorp
— Arrival of the recruiting sergeants — I am to go to the
seat of war — My new regiment — I proceed to Dublin — A
spree : we shave off the whiskers of an ex-pawnbroker's son
— Unpleasant consequences threatened — I eat humble-pie—
The affair blows over — I again change my regiment — The
fall of Sebastopol ends my hopes— The song I composed,
and the reputation it brought me — A consequence of that
reputation ...... . -7

CHAPTER IV.

ARHA DEFUNCTUMQUE BELLO
BARBITOX H1C PARIES HABEB1T.

Life at Walnier — Unpleasant officers — How I offended the
Colonel — The "Subalterns' Arms" — I ask to be ex-
changed— Our impecuniosity — How I humbugged the
sheriff's officer — I make a bolt for it — Jurnbo and I ask
leave — We proceed to London — The newspaper advertise-
ment— Interviewing the money-lender — His terms — We
call upon his " friend "- —A singular breakfast — " Merely a
matter of form " — A disturbance in the street — Jumbo and
I arrested — We are taken before the magistrate and fined
-Visit from " Captain Curtis "--The trick played upon
us — My father and godfather to the rescue — I return to
Walmer, and leave the service. ..... 39

CHAPTER V.

OMNIA VINCIT AMOR.

I stay with my parents at Reading — Visit from Disney Roebuck
— Our amateur theatricals — We resolve to go on the stage

CONTENTS. ix

PACK

— Our early engagements — An eventful introduction —
Miss Keeley hears me ray lines — I meet Henry Irving

—Playing in the Potteries — Mrs. Patch — Why I went
to I )ublin — My marriage — My wife's parents — We take
a house in Pelham Street — Another provincial tour —
Mrs. "Wyndham — Johnny Toole - - I leave the stage
— Reminiscences of Keeley — Mrs. Iveeley's versatility—
Adelphi dramas — Visitors at Pelham Crescent — Mr. and
Mrs. Alfred Wigan — Mr. and Mrs. Levy — The Daily Tele-
graph— Mr. Edward Lawson — I enter at the Inner Temple

—Frank Bumand — He and I write plays together — I take
a manuscript to Robson — The price paid for it . . . 49

CHAPTEE VI.

CEDUNT ARMA TOG^E.

Serjeant Parry's advice — I enter Mr. Holl's chambers — Attend-
ing the Sessions — The resolution I come to — I am called
to the Bar — My first brief — Pleasure gives way to fright—
I lose the case — My despair — Hardinge-Giffard, Sleigh,
Metcalfe, Ballantine, and others — Messrs. Lewis and Lewis
— Bob Orridge's bet — An exception to the general rule . 68

CHAPTER VII.

EARO ANTECEDENTS!! SCELESTUM
DESERUIT PEDE PCENA CLAUDO.

The extent of my practice— The case of Catherine Wilson — A
description of her crimes — Our defence — What the Judge
said — Statement by the Lincoln police officer — The verdict
— The accused rearrested — A fresh trial — Bodies of the
victims exhumed — Some pointed observations from, the
Bench — "Guilty"-— Mr. Justice Byles — His lordship's com-
ments in private— Anecdote of Mr. F. — Mr. Arthur Collins
and the point that was overlooked — A painful case — The
subscription, we started — My first introduction to Messrs.
Lewis and Lewis — Reminiscences of Ballantine — An em-
barrassing position — Ribton's verbosity — I act as Ballan-
tine's junior in a gross case of fraud — His advice about
fees — The little Jewish solicitor . 77

f-r —

x CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VIII.

XEMO ME I3IPUXE LACESSIT.

PAGE

Serjeant Ballantine's weekly custom — A case of fraud — What
Ballantine said to the parson — Jews like the Serjeant; but
the Serjeant doesn't like Jews — A remarkable piece of cross-
examination — " I am his cussed old father"- —Ballantine's
conduct towards Clarkson — Sparring between the Serjeant
and Huddleston — Miss Lydia Thompson's action against Miss
Marie Wilton — The comment of a rising young barrister—
I desire to join the Oxford Circuit — My father's peculiar
objections — I join the Home Circuit — The giants of those
days — My first Circuit town — Serjeant Shee's kindness —
Mr. Eussell Gurney, Sir Thomas Chambers, and Mr. Com-
missioner Iverr — An instance of great fairness . . .92

CHAPTER IX.

SI XON EURTALUS RUTULOS CECIDISSET IN HOSTES
HYRTACID.E NISO GLORIA NULLA FORET.

The Hatton Garden murder — Pelizzioni charged with the crime
-Evidence of the landlord of the " Golden Anchor "
Statement of the dying man — Witnesses for the defence
—Accusations against Gregorio — The question of the knife
— The prisoner sentenced to death — Excitement among the
Italians — A respite obtained — Interposition of Mr. Xegretti
—Gregorio traced — He is tried for the crime — Fresh evidence
— Pelizzioni put into the box — Mr. jSTegretti's evidence—
Gregorio found guilty of manslaughter — An unprecedented
state of things — Pelizzioni tried again on a second indict-
ment— He is acquitted and pardoned — Which one was
guilty? .... . 107

CHAPTER X.

SI JUDICAS COGXOSCE.

A case of sheep-stealing — The alibi I set up — It is pooh-poohed

from the Bench — A verdict of "Guilty" — What took place

twelvemonths later — " You condemned an innocent man"

-The Drovers' Association take the matter up — Her

CONTENTS. xi

PAGE

Majesty's " pardon " — The prison doors release a maniac —
Anticipatory mourning : Hawkins' little joke — "A fly-blow
in the ocean ". . . . . . . . .125

CHAPTER XI.

QUI DUO CORPORIBUS MEXTIBUS UNUS ERANT.

The Cannon Street murder — Evidence of the cook — An im-
portant letter — Mrs. Robbins' testimony — Statement by
George Terry — I call Avitness.es for the defence — Great con-
flict of evidence : the issue hopelessly confused — A verdict
of " Not Guilty " -The murder remains a mystery^ — My
friend Douglas Straight — My earliest recollection of him :
how he cuffed the ears of two small boys — " The Twins "
An amusing observation that we overheard . . .132

CHAPTER XII.

O RUS QUANDO EGO TE ASPICIAM.

Number 8, Upper Brook Street — A new custom of mine-
Mr, and Mrs. Lawson's house at Twickenham — The people
who went there — Napier Sturt and the diamond merchant
—Sir John Holker's natural surprise — Attempt to burn
down The Daily Telegraph offices — I am sent " Special " to
Windsor — A case of robbery — My curious meeting with
London detectives — The statement one of them made to
me regarding my client — I am obliged to leave before the
verdict is returned — The prisoner's consequent indignation
— A verdict of " Not Guilty " — How the released man
treated the police to a champagne supper .... 145

CHAPTER XIII.

PAUPERTAS ONUS ET MISERUM ET GRAVE.

The Middlesex Sessions — An underpaid J udgeship — Poor
prisoners and their defence — Where thieves used to live,
and where they live now — An impudent little pickpocket
I defended — East End lodging-houses : a disgraceful state
of things — Suggestions for reform — Midnight rambles in
the East End — How a friend and I tried the effects of
opium — The "Bridge of Sighs"-— A woman lying in the
snow with a child in her arms — The poor creature's
desperate resolve — We take her to the refuge . . .158

xii CONTENTS.

CHAPTEE XIV.

IXGRATO HOMIXE TERRA PEJDS NIL GREAT.

PAGE

An amusing case at Bristol — Strange threat of a butcher —
Ballantine makes a mistake — The long retirement of the jury
— The butcher found to be tattered and bleeding — A cruel
murder — The ragged wayfarer and the kind-hearted widow
—She accedes to his prayer for a night's lodging — He
becomes her manager and collects her rents — A descrip-
tion of the crime — The man is acquitted — He afterwards
boasts of his guilt ........ 173

CHAPTER XV.

PRO PATRIA XOX TIMIDUS MORI.

The Clerkenwell explosion — How it originated, and why it
failed — The accused and their counsel — A description of
the prisoners — Evidence of the informers — A letter in
invisible ink — Incidents subsequent to the explosion-
Further evidence — The warders in the witness-box-
Acquittal of Ann Justice — A moving scene — Mr. Baker
Greene's witnesses — Barrett's demeanour — The crowd in
Court — Constant attendance of ladies — Retirement of the
jury — Excitement inside and outside the Court . .181

CHAPTER XVI.

QUIS TALIA FAXDO TEMPEEET A LACRIMIS ?

Return of the jury — An exciting moment — Barrett found guilty—
The Judge's interrogation — Barrett replies, but is interrupted
by his lordship — The prisoner receives permission to
address the Court — Text of his speech — Some eloquent
passages — His analysis of the evidence — Mullany, the
"Prince of Perjurers" — Manly references to his impending
doom — A moving peroration — The effect produced upon
his hearers: not a dry eye in Court — The leading article in
The Daily Telegraph — The issue pronounced unsatisfactory 194

CONTEXTS. xm

CHAPTER XVII.

NIL DESPERAXDUM.

PAGE

Another Fenian trial — The indictment — Evidence of informers
— Details of a ludicrous plot : Chester Castle to be seized—
Result of the trial — A shrewd Jewish solicitor— He sends me
a "dead" case — The value of bristles — Conclusive evidence
— How the police found the stolen property — Our consul-
tation— Unaccountable merriment of the solicitor — " Xot
a leg to stand on. Ha ! ha ! ha ! " -The thirteenth jury-
man— He makes a sad statement, and is allowed to serve —
An unexpected occurrence : the jury ask to retire — Hours
pass, and no verdict is returned — An extraordinary dt-nou-
ment — It is explained . . . . . .206

CHAPTER XVIII.

ATJRUM PER MEDIOS IRE SATELLITES
ET PERRUMPERE AMAT SAXA.

An attempt to corrupt the police — Trial of Critchley and
Eichards — Ham's evidence — Fatal termination of a fight —
Trial of those who took part in it — A nice point : boxing or
prize-fighting 1 — Mr. Baron Bramwell hesitates — He consults
Mr. Justice Byles — The final decision, which settles the
law on the subject . . . . . . . .216

CHAPTER XIX.

QUO FUGIT VEXUS ! EHEU QUOVE COLOR.

Trial of Madame Eachel — Police Court proceedings — Mr. Knox
— Ballantine, Straight, and I appear against Madame Rachel
— Mrs. Berradaile's evidence — A description of that lady —
Her introduction to Lord Ranelagh — "\Vhat Mrs. Borradaile
paid to be made " beautiful for ever "- —How she raised the
necessary cash — 'Gushing love-letters from. " "\Villiam" —
Ordering jewels, lace, trousseau, etc. — Faulty orthography
attributed to the servant — His love was as warm as a
lighted cigar — Lord Ranelagh's denial and explanations—
The jury disagree and are discharged — The fresh trial —
A verdict of " Guilty " 224

xiv CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XX.

SIMPLEX MUNDITIIS.

Madame Eachel again — A case that did not come into Court—
A lovely woman seeks to improve upon Nature — She takes
a bath at Madame Rachel's and loses all her jewels-
Treachery of the wicked old perfume- vendor — The victim-
ised lady confides in her husband — He seeks my advice—
The decision we come to, and why— Serjeant Parry and his
methods — His popularity — " They call her Cock Robin " .

CHAPTER XXI.

EHEU FUGACES, POSTUME, POSTUME, LABUXTUR ANNI.

Police Court practice — Magistrates at Maryborough Street and
Bow Street : Sir Thomas Henry, Sir James Ingham,
Mr. Flowers, Mr. Yaughan, etc. — Story of the gentleman
from Bournemouth who lost his watch — How the suspected
man was arrested and taken before a magistrate — The
prosecutor finds he has made a mistake — Sir James Ingham
gives a practical illustration of human forgetfulness — An
old thief at the back of the Court perceives his opportunity
and seizes it — Social reforms brought about by Mr. Ivnox
-The West End : then and now — Licensing business-
Excellent City Aldermen : Sir Thomas Gabriel, Sir
Benjamin Phillips, Sir James Lawrence, and others .

CHAPTER XXII.

PARATUS OTINE OESARIS PERICULUM
SUBIRE MJECEXAS TUO.

The Shrewsbury election petition — Douglas Straight accused of
bribery and treating — We all put up at " The Raven "
My social duties as junior — Hardinge-Giffard would not let
me smoke in the sitting-room — I have my revenge, and
Giffard has no breakfast — The tactics I pursue in regard to
the dinner — Ballantine opens the case — The man with the
white hat — The "Dun Cow" dinner — A little joke from the
Bench — Straight becomes very angry with Ballantine—
Four anxious hours — Baron Channell gives a decision in
our favour — General rejoicings .....

CONTENTS. xv

CHAPTEE XXIII.

ECCE ITERUM CRISPINUS.

PAGE

I am instructed to prosecute Robert Cook, whom I have
met before — How he wronged the poor widow — She
had no money for a Christmas dinner — I " go for " the
accused with a vengeance — Ballantine can't understand
it — The jury return a verdict of " Guilty," and Cook's
carriage drives away empty — I sign a petition, and the
sentence is mitigated — The Wood Green murder — Descrip-
tion of the crime — The dinners at the Central Criminal
Court — A chaplain's choice observation — A jewel robbery
—How the thieves gagged the assistant — A theatrical effect
in the box — The Stratford murder — A damning piece of
evidence — The murderer's confession . 280

CHAPTER XXIV.

IXGEXUI VULTUS PUER.

C. W. Mathews : the best pupil I ever had — " Faithful
William " — The work a counsel in large practice has to do
— Story of two Jews who raised my fee — They expectecl a
" nice long day" — I discover a legal flaw, and their friend
is promptly acquitted — They are disappointed — " Flash
Fred " — He is charged with forgery, and I defend him—
His running comments during the case — He forgets the
second indictment, but the Bench doesn't — How "Flash
Fred " got a railway ticket for nothing — Rumour associates
him with the theft of Lord Hastings' betting-book —
Remarkable speech by a Queen's Counsel — The countrymen
in the jury-box commence to weep — " We finds for Muster
C " . 294

CHAPTER XXV.

AURI SACRA FAMES.

I become a member of the Garrick Club — Sir Charles Taylor —
An amateur music-hall performance — H. J. Byron and his
troupe of performing dogs — The Taily Tailygrapli—
The crime of dogicide — Another election petition —

xvi CONTENTS.

PAGE

Astounding allegations — I get worn out and determine
to go fishing — All the others insist upon coming — My
client couldn't fish, and wouldn't let me — A midnight
consultation — Exciting chase after an eavesdropper — We
determine to throw up the sponge — I go to bed and have
a troubled dream — A frilled night-shirt — " When you
meet your client in h — 11," etc. ..... 308

CHAPTER XXVI.

PER MARE PER TERRAS.

Risk Allah v. The Daily Telegraph — Taking evidence at
Brussels — Risk Allah's remark about the coffee — I accom-
pany the Procureur General to a Belgian Court of Justice-
He takes a pinch of snuff from one o£ the men he is
prosecuting — Serjeant Parry opens his case — A difference
between the legal procedure of the two countries- — Risk
Allah's history — Finding the dead body — -The position
taken up by the newspaper — Alleged accomplices in forgery
— Parry defines the issue — Verdict ..... 321

CHAPTER XXVII.

ADHUC SUB JUDICE LIS EST.

Long cases and large fees : Mr. Coleridge's observation — Chief
Justice Cockburn's remarks about the Press — What another
Chief Justice said : " Who is Mr. Corney Grain 1 "—The
Daily Telegraph's leading article — The necessity for a
Court of Criminal Appeal — Instances of how it would have
been useful — Should defended prisoners address the jury 1 333

LEAVES OF A LIFE.

CHAPTER I.

ELEC OLIM MEMINISSB JUVABIT.

My birthplace — A legal family — My father's one idea — We move
from. Somersetshire to Berkshire — Our quaint old house in the
Cloisters at Windsor — Neighbours and friends — Visit of Lord
George Loftas — Why he came amongst us — His habits and
customs — Running up to London — How his lordship was
" done "—Eton— Some popular " Tugs "—The last Eton "Mon-
tem " — The scene in the grounds — Levying "Salt" — Her
Majesty's contribution — Why the institution perished.

WHEN a person is about to give evidence in a Court
of Justice, he is sworn to tell the truth, the whole
truth, and nothing but the truth. Now this is pre-
cisely what I am not going to do. The truth and
nothing but the truth ? Yes. The whole truth ? No.
My purpose is to run over certain pages in the history
of a somewhat varied and eventful life, to describe
things that I have seen, and to tell anecdotes of
men of note with whom I have, from time to time,
been associated. It will be my earnest endeavour,
while so doing, to write nothing that can wound the

VOL. I. B

MY FAMILY.

susceptibilities of the living, and to tell naught of
those that have passed away, save the good things
that should live after them.

I was born at Freshford, in Somersetshire, on
the 30th September, 1835, the locus in quo a small
cottage outside the gates of Stoke, the country resi-
dence of my great - uncle and godfather, Stephen
Williams. He was a barrister in considerable practice
on the Western Circuit. His only children were
two daughters : Ellen, a very beautiful girl, who was
burnt to death while dressing for one of the Bath
balls ; and Nanno, who married Colonel, afterwards
General, Maitland, and was the mother of the pre-
sent Earl of Lauderdale.

My family has been steeped in law for genera-
tions. My great-grandfather was a Chancery barrister ;
my grandfather was senior partner in the firm of
Williams, Vaux, Fennell. and Williams, of Bedford
Eow ; and my father, John Jeffries Williams, commonly
known as "Little Williams," was on the Oxford
Circuit.

My mother, whose maiden name was Jessie Browne,
was the daughter of Robert Browne, Esq., who in early
youth went out to the West Indies, and settled av
Jamaica as a sugar-planter. My father had three
children : an elder brother named Mahon, a younger
sister named Clara, and myself.

My father, who was an excellent classic, had one
idea in his mind that outweighed all others, namely,

WINDSOR AND OUR NEIGHBOURS THERE.

to give his two sons the very best education in his
power. To further this end, when my brother had
reached the age of twelve, my father determined to
settle in the neighbourhood of Eton, and, whilst
practising his profession as a local barrister, to
personally supervise the teaching and training of his
boys. In due course we migrated from Somersetshire
to Berkshire, and occupied a house in the Cloisters at
Windsor, having as neighbours the Rev. \V. Knyvett
on the one side, and the Dean of the Chapel Royal
on the other. It was a quaint and ancient house,
celebrated for the old painted - glass window in the
drawinef-room. On this window was the head of

o

a very beautiful woman, popularly supposed to be
Margaret of Anjou.

My brother was at once sent to Eton, and became
the pupil of the Rev. W. Lawrence Elliott ; while I,
under the personal supervision of my male parent,
was doomed to worry my juvenile life out over the
well-inked pages of the Eton Latin Grammar.

My father's principal friends in those days were
Dr. George (afterwards Sir George) Elvey, the organist
of St. George's ; the Rev. T. Gore, one of the Minor
/anons ; Tom Batchelor, the lame Chapel Clerk of
Windsor, and Registrar of Eton College; and Tom
Chambre, the well-known associate of the Western
Circuit, The principal people in the neighbourhood on
the Windsor side, were Captain Bulkeley of Clewer,
whose sister-in-law, the handsome Miss Fanny

B 2

4 ARRIVAL OF LORD GEORGE LOFTUS.

Langford, was the belle of the county ; Major and
Mrs. Mountj oy-Martin ; and Horace Pitt, afterwards
Lord Eivers. In the Buckinghamshire district were the
Vyses, Vansittarts, Fitzmaurices, Coneys, and Wards.

We had been living in the Cloisters some two
or three years, when my father informed us that he
expected a visitor, who, he added, would probably
remain with us for a considerable period. This was
Lord George Loftus, one of the younger sons of the
Marquis of Ely, with whom my father had been
acquainted for some few years. In due time Lord
George arrived. His visit, as I afterwards learnt, was
due to rather peculiar circumstances.

Those were the days of imprisonment for debt,
and if a man, who owed money, was unable to come
to a satisfactory arrangement with his creditors, he
probably found himself in the Fleet, the Queen's
Bench Prison, or one of the other buildings set apart
for the detention of insolvent debtors. There were
certain privileges, however, granted to these un-
fortunate persons. For example, it was a rule that
nobody should be arrested on the Sabbath day, i.e»
between the hours of 12 p.m. on Saturday and
12 p.m. on Sunday. Again, any person residing within
the precincts of a Royal residence, such as Windsor
Castle and Hampton Court Palace, was, so long as
he remained within those precincts, secure from the
hands of the bailiff, or sheriff's officer. Now, Lord
George owed a considerable sum of money, which

HIS LORDSHIP'S CHARACTER AND HABITS. 5

lie was unable to pay, and, as he preferred his partial
liberty in Berkshire to durance vile in London, he
quartered himself temporarily with us in the Cloisters
at Windsor. He was a good-looking fellow of about
thirty, with very pleasant manners, and I am bound
to say that he was exceedingly kind to us children.
He had a remarkably fine set of teeth, which he
was very fond of showing, and he was perpetually
repeating, with a knowing shake of the head, "You
can't do Lord George ! " Now, if ever there was a
man who had been bested by all the bill-discounting
Jews and post-obit mongers in England, done to death
by every conceivable sharp in racing, gambling, etc.,
it was our self-satisfied but deluded visitor.

Lord George seemed tolerably happy in his
seclusion. He used to roam about the Castle Green
and Back Hill, and occasionally drop in upon the
officer on guard at the Castle Gate. He would smoke
any number of the best and most expensive Lopez
cigars, either with one or two of the Military Knights,
or some chance friend from London, who came down
to see how he was getting on. It was his custom to
relieve the monotony of his existence by running up
to town on Sundays. He would catch the early
morning train from Slough (there was no line to
Windsor in those days), and return by the last one
from Paddington, which just arrived in time to enable
him to hurry into the Castle Yard before the fatal
stroke of twelve. My father had, over and over

6 ARRESTED AT THE RAILWAY STATION.

again, endeavoured to dissuade him from running this
risk, but, with the usual shake of the head and
observation, he obstinately refused to follow the
proffered advice.

A year had nearly elapsed since Lord George's
advent, when, one Sunday morning, he left in the
very highest spirits to pay his customary visit to town.
He was to dine with a Mrs. Theobald, then a very
celebrated rider with the Queen's hounds, and to meet
at her house a few of his intimate friends and racing
acquaintances.

Sunday passed in the usual quiet way at Windsor ;
the last train arrived — but no Lord George. Early next
morning a special messenger came clown from town, with
the news that his lordship had been arrested, and was
in the hands of the myrmidons of the law. It appeared
that after a very good dinner, with plenty of champagne
and lively conversation, his lordship, looking at the clock
on the drawing-room mantelpiece, observed that it was
time for him to order a cab and drive to the station.
With a hurried good-bye he left, but on arriving at
Paddington, judge his surprise to find the train gone,
the lights out, and the station shut ! As he was trying
to realise his position, two men stepped out from the
shadowy darkness of the station, and one of them,
placing a hand upon his shoulder, exclaimed. :

" Too late, my lord ! The train has been gone some
five-and-twenty minutes. Your lordship is done this
time.'

ETON FOUNDATION. 7

The fair equestrienne and a racing man named
Tom Coyle had been acting in collusion with Lord
George's principal creditor — the clock had been put
back one hour — and the victim passed that night at
Slowman's sponging-house in Cursitor Street, Chancery
Lane.

My brother pursued his studies in a very satisfactory
way at Eton. After passing his examination, he was
elected one of the sixty King's Scholars, or, as they were
commonly called, Tugs, a name arising from the fact
that they were fed upon no meat but mutton, which was
not always of the tenderest description.

It is nearly four centuries and a half since the
College of the Blessed Mary of Eton was founded
by King Henry VI. Its endowment was mainly
derived from the alien priories suppressed by
Henry IV., and its original foundation consisted of a
Provost, ten priests, four lay clerks, twenty-five poor
scholars, and five beadsmen. By successive bene-
factions and the rise in the value of property, its
revenues gradually increased from £652, in 1508,
to upwards of £20,000, at which they now stand.
Many years ago the number of scholars rose to sixty,
and at that point it has remained. They are supposed
to be the children of poor gentlemen, but of late
years they have included in their ranks the sons
of noblemen and of eminent statesmen. At the
time of which I am writing, not the least popular
of the sixty " King's " was my brother, familiarly

THE LAST ETON MONTEM.

known among his fellows as " Shiny Williams."
Boudier, Bumpstead, Gwynne, Mackerness, Joynes, the
Polehamptons, and the Brownings, were among his
co-Tugs ; while conspicuous among the Oppidans
were De Bathe (now Sir Henry), the best-looking
fellow I think I ever saw ; Charlie and Fred Coleridge,
Bailey, Chitty (Mr. Justice), McNiven, Astley,
Whymper, and many others who have since done
something to inscribe their names in the Book of
Fame.

It was during my chrysalis state — while I was
reading up for the purpose of treading in my brother's
footsteps, and being admitted as a scholar upon the
foundation — that I was present at the last Eton
Montem, an experience I shall never forget. Montem
took place once every three years. It was originally
founded, I believe, for the benefit of that Colleger
who in his year attained the highest place in the
school, but who, by reason of no vacancy occurring
before the time of his superannuation, had not the
luck to be sent up to King's College, Cambridge.
All the money that was taken, under the short and
peculiar name of " salt," passed into his pockets on
the day that he left, and was supposed to go* a
long way towards paying his expenses either at
Oxford or Cambridge. The amount collected was
sometimes as large as £1,000, and even as £1,200.

The boys — or rather, those whose fathers could
afford the outlay — were arrayed for the day in all sorts

HER MAJESTY'S DONATION.

of fancy costumes, some of a beautiful and costly
description. You might see the Courts of Charles I.
and Louis Quatorze assembled in the Playing Fields,
while Captain Macheath, Sir Brian de Bois Gilbert, and
Sir Walter Raleigh might be encountered wandering
by the banks of the* Thames, in Lower Shooting Field.
The boys of the Fifth and Sixth forms were dressed
as follows : the Oppidans in red coats with brass
buttons (on which were stamped the Eton arms), white
waistcoats, and white trousers ; the Collegers in what
looked like blue naval uniforms. The Lower boys were
dressed in Eton jackets with the Eton button, white
trousers, and white waistcoats, and in their hands they
carried thin white wands.

There was a certain number of Sixth Form, or
Upper Division, boys who wore fancy dresses, and acted
as salt-bearers. They carried large silken bags, into
which they put the money collected from visitors and
passers-by. The donors received in return for their
contributions a little piece of blue paper, on which was
inscribed the motto for the Montem of that particular
year. The motto for the last Montem was pro more
et monte ; that for the last but one, mos pro lege.

Royalty itself was not free from the tax. Two
"salt-bearers" were stationed on Windsor Bridge, and
when the Queen drove down the hill — and she never
missed a Montem — the elder of the two stepped for-
ward, stopped the carriage, and, taking off his hat,
with the words, " Salt, your Majesty, Salt," placed

10 WHY THE INSTITUTION PERISHED.

under contribution the highest and noblest lady in the
land.

In the afternoon there was a regular fete in the
Playing Fields. The enormous tent captured from
Tippoo Sahib, which had been lent from the Castle,
was erected as a refreshment booth. At noon all the
boys formed themselves into a procession, and marched
from the College Yard to Salt Hill, the mound from
which the festival took its name. Here Montem was
buried with all due pomp and solemnity.

Montem was an expensive custom to keep up. In
the first place, the masters, dames, and Fellows had
to entertain the numerous visitors whom the occasion
brought together ; in the next place, the parents of
the boys were put to a considerable expense in the
matter of fancy costumes. Murmurs arose from both
quarters, and thus it came about that, like many
another fine old institution, Montem breathed its last.
Sic transit gloria mundi.

CHAPTER II.

ILLE TERRARUM MIHI PRATER OMNES ANGULUS BIDET.

More about Eton — School persecutions — Cricket and football matches,
and what followed — I am elected a King's Scholar — The masters
— Concerning Bursar Bethell— How we rang old Plumptree's
•bell — "Sock" shops — Spankie's love for the aristocracy — Heroism
of a fag—" Cellar" and " Combie "—The "long glass "• -Persons
we patronised — My tutor — The nicknames he gave us — His
method of punishment — Threepence or half a sheep — Impudence
of young Seale-Hayne — The prseposter — Story of Dr. Keate—
My only flogging — My tutor's version of the affair — The portrait
at the Garrick Club.

SHORTLY after the events recorded in the last chapter,
my father moved from "Windsor Castle to "Willow
Brook. Willow Brook consisted of three houses on
the Slouch road, about five minutes' walk from Eton

O 7

College, and just beyond Fifteen Arch Bridge. Our
next-door neighbour, and my father's intimate friend,
was Mr. Tarver, the French master at the School.
He had three sons : Charles (who was for some time
tutor to the Prince of Wales), Harry, and Frank
(who succeeded to his father's position).

Lono- Chamber was in existence in those days,

12 SCHOOL TORTURES.

though it was doomed to be soon pulled down and
replaced by the new buildings. The sixty Tugs in-
habited Long Chamber, as well as Carter's Chamber,
which was underneath it, opposite the Lower School
door.

The Eton of those days was very different from
the Eton of to-day. I think if a boy had been seen
carrying an umbrella or wearing an overcoat then,
the umbrella would have quickly found its way to
the bottom of Barns' Pool, and the overcoat would
soon have worn the aspect of anything but a complete
garment. If a lad entered College as a Lower boy,
save and except fagging, he escaped most trouble ;
but if he entered as a Fifth Form boy, he was, during
the first half-year, called a Jew and subjected to all
sorts of persecutions, being forbidden, among other
things, the privilege of sitting at Upper fireplace.
The judge and administrator of punishments was called
the "High Priest," and at that time the office was
filled by one Ben Simmonds (whose real name was
Harry), now a staid and respectable banker at Beading,
living at a charming place near Caversham, on the
banks of the Thames.

One of the torments to which the Jews had to
submit was suggestive of the fate of Shadrach, Meshach,
and Abed-nego. An enormous paper fire was lighted
in the centre of Long Chamber, and the Jews had to
jump into it, and dance about, for the amusement
of the Sixth Form and Lower boys. Another ordeal

NOCTURNAL FESTIVITIES. 13

may be mentioned. The neophyte was tied up in his
gown, carried to some remote spot — being liberally
punished in transitu — and there deposited, being left
to extricate himself as best he could. These Barnes

O

were carried on after "lock up," for the Collegers had
the range of the School Yard, the Cloisters, the Upper
School staircase, and, usually, the Upper School.

How long the tortures lasted depended entirely
upon how they were taken. Before he faced the fiery
furnace, any one who knew what he was about took
care to put on two or three coats and one or two
pairs of thick trousers ; and as a preliminary to the
other ordeal, the wary one put into his pocket a small
knife, wherewith to cut open his gown and regain his
freedom.

Great nights followed the days on which were
played the cricket and football matches between
Collegers and Oppidans. No battles were fought with
more pluck, energy, anxiety, and determination than
those matches, and, if the Tugs were victorious, some-
thing like an orgie, I am afraid, prevailed at night in
Long Chamber. All the jugs and basins were called
into requisition, and the Lower boys were set to work
preparing those vessels for the brewing of " gin-twirley,"
an innocent kind of gin-punch. Eecourse was also had
to a barrel of strong ale which had been secretly
imported, and which was called " A Governor."

Lights were supposed to be extinguished before ten
o'clock, and at that hour Dr. Haw trey, then the

14 THE BUTLER AND HIS SIGNAL.

"Head," visited Long Chamber to see that all was
quiet. On the occasions to which I have alluded —
when the festivities were, as a matter of fact, kept up
till nearly midnight — special precautionary measures
had to be taken in view of the Head Master's visit.
This is what took place. Hawtrey's butler, Finniore
(who doesn't remember good old Finney?), accompanied
his master on his evening round, and, as they crossed
the Quadrangle, on their way to Long Chamber, it was
his custom to wave the lantern he carried in his
hand. This was a prearranged signal, for which
a youngster was on the watch. He was stationed
at the head of the staircase, whence, through
an iron grating, he looked out upon the Quad-
rangle. The instant he saw the moving light,
he gave the word, and no rabbits ever scampered to
their burrows at the approach of a terrier more quickly
than the boys — after extinguishing the lights, and
without removing their clothes — now bolted to their
beds. When Dr. Hawtrey entered 'Long Chamber, all
were snoring and apparently asleep. He went away
satisfied, little dreaming that five minutes later the
candles would be brightly burning, and a merry festival
in progress.

One of our amusements on these occasions was to
sing "The Fine Old Eton Colleger," "Johnny Coke,"
" The Mermaid," and other College songs.

The time that I had so longed for at length arrived.
I went into College trials, passed, and was elected a

FAMOUS ETONIANS. 15

King's Scholar. I have always said, and I repeat it
now, that these were the happiest days of my life. If I
had twenty sons, and a sufficiently elastic purse, I
should send them all to dear old Eton. What other
school can show so remarkable a roll of statesmen ? It
ranges from Bolingbroke to Gladstone, and includes all
the most eminent of the Ministers who have swayed the
destinies of this great country from the time of Anne to
the Victorian era. Harley, St. John, and Walpole went
to Eton, and it was the school of the elder Pitt, the
Duke of Wellington, the late Lord Derby, the novelist
Fielding, Hallam, Milnian, Shelley, and Gray.

When I went into College, Dr. Hodgson was the
Provost, and among the Fellows were Wilder, Grover
(whose wife was called "Jack"), Plumptree, John
George Dupuis, and Tom Carter. Among the masters
were Edward Coleridge, Cookesley, Pickering, Harry
Dupuis, Goodford, Abraham, Durnford, Balston, Young,
Birch, and Johnson. In the Lower School were Okes,
Elliott, Luxmore, and John Hawtrey. Bethell was the
Bursar. He was a very sententious person, with a loud,
sonorous voice, and it was upon him that a celebrated
Sixth Form wrote the two following Greek iambics :

Srjpos SiSaKTiKo? -re Koi prjrutpiKOs
Me'yuy Be&jXos cocrre ravpos £K/3oa.

Their author subsequently translated them into English
verse, as follows :

Didactic, dry, declamatory, dull-
Big Bursar Bethell bellows like a bull.

16 VENDORS OF DAINTIES.

All the Fellows lived in the Cloisters, and one of the
amusements of the Lower boys was, after " lock up," to be
perpetually ringing old Plumptree's bell and running
away. One day, chancing to find a large bag of soot in the
Cloisters, we carried it to Plumptree's door, deposited
it just outside, rang the bell, and then hid round the
corner. It so happened that the old fellow had been
lying in wait for us, and, to our great delight, he at
once burst open the door, seized the bag of soot, and,
thinking that at last he had grasped his prey, cried out,
"Ha ! ha ! my little Colleger, I've caught you now."

The principal " Sock " shops, as boys call them — •
where cake, fruit, ices, and such things are sold — were
Barnes', near Barns' Pool, and Webber and Knox's,
in the High Street. On the path running down the
Long Walk, just outside the School Yard, were to be
found Bryan's barrow, and the baskets of Spankie,
Jobey Joel, and Tulip Trotman, all crowded with such
delicacies as delight the youthful palate. Spankie was
a character, and he had a strong regard for the
aristocracy. Whenever he met a young nobleman, he
would take off his hat and bow most obsequiously. He
was delighted to give him credit (" tick" we called it),
and would remark how, years before, he had enjoyed
the proud privilege of doing the same for his lordship's
father. The late Duke of Newcastle (then Lord
Lincoln), his brother (Lord Edward Clinton), Lord
Dungarvan (now Earl of Cork), and Lord Campbell
were conspicuous among Spankie's customers. Jobey

SMUGGLING IN THE BEER. 17

Joel — whose principal wares in summer were straw-
berries and cherries — and Tulip Trotman ministered to
the wants of the humbler members of the community.
Bryan's barrow was simply a marvel. It contained, in
remote corners and hidden drawers, every conceivable
luxury — strawberries and cream, lemon and cherry ices,
ginger-beer, lemonade, and a compound, sacred to a few,
which looked and tasted uncommonly like cherry-brandy.

In those days the " Christopher Inn " was not up
town, but stood on the site, and was approached through
the same old gateway, as the house where the Messrs.
Tarver subsequently taught French. The punishment
if you were caught passing through that gateway was a
swishing, but this fact did not deter the boys from
smuggling into the College many a bottle of Bass and
Guinness. On one occasion a fag named Fursden was
ordered by a popular Sixth Form to go and fetch half-a-
dozen bottles of beer, secreting them in his gown
pockets ; but he was caught in the act by Judy
Durnford, and the next morning he was told that,
unless he confessed who sent him on the errand, he
would have to go before the Head Master for execution.
Nevertheless, like a young Spartan, he maintained a
dogged silence, and, when it came to the point, took his
punishment like a man. That night he was asked to
supper at Sixth Form table.

After two o'clock on Saturdays two feasts were held
at the " Christopher," that of the Oppidans being called
"Cellar," and that of the Collegers, "Combie." The

VOL. I. C

18 THE LONG GLASS.

feasts consisted of cold collations, with beer, shandy-
gaff, etc., and they lasted about half an hour. Before
you were permitted to be a party to these festivals, you
had to go through the somewhat difficult task of
drinking the contents of the celebrated long glass.
The probationer was allowed to select whatever beverage
he liked, and, if he failed to empty the glass, he was
ordered to retire and come up again for trial on a
future occasion.

Between Barnes' and Webber's stood the shop of
Dick Merrick, the watchmaker. What old Etonian
does not remember Dick ? He sold clocks, watches,
studs, links, pins, rings, etc. ; and his principal customers
were George Wombwell, " Swell " Jarvis, Billy Peareth,
Peyton, Lord Loughborough, Mr. Erskine (Earl of
Eosslyn) - - a pupil of my tutor's — and many others
who were destined to figure in the fashionable world
of the future. A little way from Barns' Pool Bridge
was " The Tap," kept by Jack Knight. Here, and at
Billy Goodman's, Bob Tolliday's, and the Brocas, you
might constantly see the familiar forms of Dogiardy,
Piggy Powell, Long Hill, Tot Wansel, Sparrow-Cannon,
Nibbs, and others — persons of considerable importance in
our eyes. They taught us punting, swimming, and sports
of all kinds ; supplied us with dogs and rats, blew
our footballs, sold us hockey-sticks, and performed other
useful offices.

My tutor was the Kev. William Gilford Cookesley.
Who that knew Eton in those days will ever forget

MY TUTOR. 19

him ? Eccentric and kind-hearted, he was the very
last man in the world who should have had the mould-
ing of young minds. After Donaldson — subsequently
head master at Bnry St. Edmund's, and author of the
new " Cratilus " — he was, as his editions of " Catullus,"
the " Poetse Grseci," and "Pindar" show, one of the
ablest scholars of his day.

Cookesley called all his pupils by nicknames.
Bathurst (now Sir Frederick), who was much more
at home in the Upper Shooting Fields, playing cricket,
than sitting at the desk composing Greek iambics, he
christened Ba#u? ; Sothern, a boy remarkable for the
prominence of his nasal organ, " Publius Ovidius Naso;"
Hay wood Minor, the " Sweep " ; Whitingstall, who was
somewhat of a dunce, the " Professor" ; Frank Burnand,
who, in some school amateur theatricals, played the
King in Bombastes Furioso, "Your Majesty"; while
I, for some reason or other which I will not stop to
inquire into, was nicknamed the " Miserable Sinner."

My tutor had a great dislike to putting his pupils
" in the bill," i.e. sending them up to the head master
to be swished. He preferred correcting them himself,
and for this purpose kept in his desk two small thick
pieces of gutta-percha, which had been captured from
the Captain of his house, and which he called " the
Doctor." With these correctives he took summary
vengeance upon offenders ; and it was clear that he
derived a pleasure from so doing.

According to the statute of King Henry VI., on

c 2

20 IMPUDENT YOUNG BEAM WELL.

one clay in the year every Colleger was entitled to
receive threepence or half a sheep, threepence having
been the value of half a sheep at the time the statute
was passed. On the appointed day, while the Tugs
were at dinner, Bursar Bethell would come into the
hall and give each boy a threepenny piece, but never
offering him the alternative of half a sheep. On one
occasion a small and impertinent young Tug, named
Bramwell, when offered the coin, turned round to the
Bursar and said :

" No, thank you, sir ; I want my half sheep."
Bethell flew into an awful rage, and exclaimed :
" I'll mention this matter to Dr. Hawtrey, and have
you flogged."

After three o'clock school the wretched Bramwell
was accordingly sent for, handed over to the two
holders-down, and duly punished. My tutor, strolling
along the Long Walk, outside the School Yard, late
that afternoon, chanced to come across young Bram-
well, of whose escapade he had heard.

"Master Bramwell," said he, "you're a great crimi-
nal. I hear you asked Mr. Bethell for your half sheep,
and for that offence have suffered condign punishment.
Come and breakfast with me on Sunday. Now, boy,
tell me, what would you like for breakfast ? ':

"Please, sir," said the young offender, "I should
like a goose."

"You shall have it," replied my tutor ; and on the
following Sunday he kept his word.

A SARCASTIC REMARK. 21

While giving the names of the masters, I forgot to
mention the mathematical masters, Stephen Hawtrey,
alias " Stephanos," and dear, good-natured, kind-
hearted "Badger Hale," whose cheery countenance is to
be seen at Eton still. My tutor, for some reason or
other, had a contempt for mathematics, and a particular
dislike for Stephen Hawtrey. On one occasion, in the
Pupil Room, a boy put the following question to him :

" Please, sir, is it true that Mr. Stephen Hawtrey is
to wear a cap and gown ? '

Whereupon he promptly replied :

" I think not, sir ; more likely a cap and bells."

One Sunday evening several of us were sitting with
my tutor in his Pupil Room, engaged in what was
termed private business, which, on this occasion, took
the form of readings from Whately's "Evidences of
Christianity." Among those present was a very fat boy
named Palk, the sou of the standing counsel of the
House of Commons. Now it had happened that a few
days before, one of the Brocas cads up town, on
catching sight of the stout, ungainly figure of Palk,
had cried out: "Ain't he like Dubkins?" the obser-
vation being made in the hearing of a mischievous
youth named Seale-Hayne, who, by the way, now sits
in Parliament for the Ashburton division of Devon-
shire. Well, as I have said, we were assembled
together, quietly discussing the platitudes of Whately,
and my tutor — seated at his desk, in slippers and a
blue and black draught-board dressing-gown (which I

•22 CHASING THE OFFENDER.

fancy I can see before me now) — was on the point
of explaining the meaning of the author in speaking
of Christianity as looking through a glass darkly, when
all of a sudden a loud voice outside the window
exclaimed :

" Ain't he like Dubkins ? "

My tutor flung away the book, sprang over the
forms, bolted out into the streets - - in his slippers,
and without a hat - - and ran for his life after
the culprit. Seale-Hayue, however, was too sharp
for him, and, as we afterwards learnt, gave him the
slip by running down Middleton's Lane, Cookesley
returned in a tremendous rage, and found us all con-
vulsed with laughter. Turning round sharply to me,
for some reason, he exclaimed :

" You miserable sinner, you're at the bottom of
this ! Who, sir, is Dubkins ? I'll have you flogged
in the morning." A threat, I need hardly say, that
he did not carry into effect.

When any member of the Upper School was punished,
the punishment took place in the head master's room,
where the block was kept. The Sixth Form prseposter
kept the key of the birch cupboard, and superintended
the execution. If the culprit were a friend of his, he
busied himself, while Hawtrey was giving a preliminary
lecture, in picking the buds off the birch. The sufferer
was in the hands of two holders-down while the punish-
ment was being inflicted, and the number of cuts was
regulated by the gravity of his offence.

STORIES OF THE BIECH.

I remember a story they used to tell of Dr. Keate,
who preceded Hawtrey in his office. In the school were
several brothers, named Voules, who were perpetually
enjoying the attention of the head master in the flogging-
room. One day Charles Voules (afterwards a well-known
solicitor at Windsor) presented himself for punishment,
in consequence of a misapprehension, it being his younger
brother, Voules minor, who should have attended. In
vain Charlie pointed out the mistake.

"But you're a Voules," argued Keate, "and if you're
not wanted to-day you will be wanted to-morrow ; "
whereupon he coolly administered the chastisement.

In my own time something of the same sort occurred.
At Evans's there were two boys named Mitford, who
resembled one another so closely that it was next to
impossible to tell them apart. There was this difference
between them, however, that while one suffered acutely
during a flogging, the other, from much experience of
the birch, had ceased to shrink from its application.
The situation suggested a novel proceeding to the
brothers. He of the thin skin was one day under
sentence of a flogging, but his more callous brother,
in return for a pottle of strawberries, consented to
undergo the ordeal. He fulfilled his engagement, the
fraud being undiscovered at head-quarters.

Only once was I flogged, and then the punishment
was unmerited. The circumstances of the case were
these. Every boy, when out of bounds, if he met one
of the masters, was under an obligation to shirk him,

24 WHY I WAS PUNISHED.

either by slipping into a shop or alley, or by any other
method that offered. It so happened that all the
masters wore white ties, and it was by this sign that we
were in the habit of recognising them from a distance.

One day when I was up town, I noticed, outside
Cayley's, the linendraper's, a four-wheel chaise, in which
a gentleman was seated. Mechanically my eye sought
his shirt-front, and, perceiving that he wore a thick
black tie, I did not hesitate to continue my course.
Judge of my surprise, however, on arriving alongside
the vehicle, to recognise in its occupant none other than
Judy Durnford ! It was too late to shirk him, and so,
not knowing what else to do under the circumstances, I

O

took to my heels and went up the street as fast as my
legs would carry me.

After four o'clock that afternoon, Durnford sent for
me. How was it, he asked, that I had not shirked
him in the usual manner ? Too frightened to weigh
my words, I stammered out :

" Please, sir, you hadn't got on a white tie ! "

Instantly he was crimson, and, in a tone of awful
severity, he exclaimed :

" You impudent boy ! You dare to tell me what
I am to wear, do you ? Very well, sir, I'll have you
soundly flogged ! " And he was as good as his word,
though I had been innocent of any intention to give
offence.

When my tutor heard of my punishment, he
was highly delighted, for it was a theory of his that

MY LAST MEETING WITH COOKESLEY. 25

no boy was a genuine Etonian until he had been swished.

I

On entering the Pupil Room he observed to Cook, one
of his favourite pupils : "I say, M«y«/w<?, Master Sinner
has sot himself into a nice mess. Mr. Durnford has

CD

complained of him for impudence ; he has, upon my
word. What do you think of that, now ? He actually
told Mr. Durnford that the reason he didn't shirk
him, was because he hadn't a white tie on." That was
my tutor's version of the affair.

My dear old tutor ! The last time I saw him (he
died some four years ago) was one morning, as I was
returning from Westminster Hall, where a part-heard
case had been engaging my attention for an hour or
two. Having had no breakfast, I determined to call in
at the " Garrick" to get something to eat, and it was
just before I reached the club that I caught sight of the
well-remembered figure. Cookesley was standing before
the print-shop at the top of Garrick Street, studying
some illustrations of Charles Dickens' works that were
in the window. Hurrying forward, I held out my
hand, exclaiming: "Hullo, sir!" (the "sir" is never
forgotten). " How are you 1 What on earth are you
doing here 1 ' With a hearty shake of the hand, he
retorted : " Why, my dear Sinner, how well you look !
I am staying at the Chief Justice's." (He was
an intimate friend of Sir Alexander Cockburn, who
was himself a polished classic, liomo factus ad unguem.}
" He breakfasted rather too early for me, and so I
thought I'd call in at the 'Garrick,' and try and find His

26 WHY HE LIKED THE PICTURE.

Majesty (Burnand). I'm rather hungry, and I thought
he'd give me something to eat ; but, my dear Sinner,
you'll do as well. Come along."

"While something was being prepared for us,
Cookesley said :

" I should like to see the pictures. It is a favourite
custom of mine to do so whenever I. come to town."

I was leading the way towards the dining-room ;
but he stopped me, saying :

" Not there ; upstairs, if you please, in the morning-

room.'

"But," said I, in surprise, "there are very few
pictures there."

" Never mind," he replied, " the one I want to see
most is there."

On arriving upstairs, he stopped before the portrait
of Nell Gwynne, and with that peculiar smile that
sometimes saddened his face, said :

" That is one of the best creatures, my dear Sinner,
that ever lived. She ivas a woman, if you like. Now,
I'll be bound you don't know why I say this. Are
you aware, sir, that when she died, she left a consider-
able fund for the relief of insolvent debtors ? "

I understood it all then ; for my poor old tutor had
been in pecuniary difficulties all his life.

CHAPTER III.

QUI FIT, MAECENAS, UT NEMO, QTTAM SIBI SORTEM
SEU RATIO DEDERIT, SEU FORS OBJECERIT, ILL A
CONTENTUS VIVAT, LAUDET 1HVERSA SEQUENTES ?

I leave school — Donation to the head master— How should I earn
my living? — I interview Montagu Chambers, Q.C. — I become
a master at Ipswich— The work distasteful — I resolve to become
a soldier — A commission obtained for rne — Eccentric Colonel
Sibthorp— Ordered off to Portsmouth— Detachment duty off
Tipner — The "Forlorn Hope" — The order from the Horse
Guards— Indignation of Sibthorp — Arrival of the recruiting
sergeants — I am to go to the seat of war — My new regiment—
I proceed to Dublin — A spree : we shave off the whiskers of
an ex-pawnbroker's son — Unpleasant consequences threatened—
I eat humble-pie — The affair blows over — I again change my
regiment — The fall of Sebastopol ends rny hopes — The song I
composed, and the reputation it brought me — A consequence
of that reputation.

ONE of the verses of an old College song, '•' The
Fine Old Eton Colleger," runs as follows :

Xow, Tugs, like dogs, must have their clay,

And all has quickly past.
The resignation man proclaims,

This Tug must go at last.

And so it is with me. Havinsf, to the Great

,

-disappointment of my father, failed to obtain a

28 HAWTEEY'S GOOD BREEDING.

sufficiently high place in my year to be transported
to King's College, Cambridge, I was duly super-
annuated.

It was the custom for the boys, before they left
the school, to go and say good-bye to the head master,
being then presented by him with a "leaving book."
In the case of Oppidans, it was an understood thing
that they should place a cheque upon the table, for
an amount that accorded with their parents' means.

Dr. Hawtrey, who was the essence of politeness,
always affected to be blind to these donations. If
it was at the end of the summer term, he would
observe, "It's rather warm. I think I'll open the
window ; " and as he did so, the envelope was duly
deposited upon the table. When the next boy who
was leaving was ushered in, the same routine was
gone through, save that Hawtrey observed : " Don't
you think it's rather cold ? I think I'd better shut
the window."

And thus I left the school I cared for so well.
0 si prceteritos referat mihi Jupiter annos !

Having disappointed my father by not getting
"Kings's" and thus relieving him of a burden, I
determined that, if possible, I would earn my own
living. I came up to town, and went to see and
consult my second godfather, Montagu Chambers,
Q.C., a name that will always be honoured and
respected by every member of the late Home Circuit.
It so happened that he was on intimate terms with

I BECOME A SOLDIER. 29

Dr. Eigaud, subsequently Bishop of Antigua, who, at
that time, had just been appointed head master of
Ipswich Grammar School. I told my godfather of
my intentions, stating that I did not exactly know
what to turn my hand to. Eemarking that my
classical education ought to prove useful to me, he
promised to write to Ipswich to see if Dr. Rigaud
€ould give me a berth in his establishment.

In a month's time I found myself a master in the
Grammar School, having as my principal care the
Latin Elegiacs, Greek Iambics, and Latin Prose of
the First or head master's Form.

I remained there until I was nearly twenty years
of age. It was a dull life, about which there is
nothing worth relating, and of which I quickly tired.

The Crimean War had broken out, and, at my
instigation, my father obtained for me — from his old
friend, kind-hearted but eccentric Colonel Sibthorp —
a commission in the Royal South Lincoln Militia.
The regiment was then embodied and doing the duty
of regulars. It was quartered at Chichester, in the
barracks usually occupied by the Foot Guards.
Sibthorp was the honorary Colonel ; Henry Fane,
Lieutenant-Colonel Commandant; Moore, the Major;
and Pell, Brailsford, the two Parkers, Tuke, Norris,
and "Woodhouse (of Irnham) — commonly known as
"Timber" — were among the officers.

We had a capital time at this pretty Sussex town,
being most hospitably entertained by the people living

30 ECCENTRIC COLONEL SIBTHORP.

in the neighbourhood. After remaining there about
six months, we were ordered off to do garrison duty
at Portsmouth. We were quartered in the Cambridge
barracks, and it was while we were here that old
Sibthorp used from time to time to come clown and
visit his regiment, staying at the " Old Fountain."
He was a very strange being. I remember on one
occasion, while I was dining with him at the inn,
I asked whether there was anything new in town.
"Nothing particular, my dear boy," he said, "except
the Spanish dancers at the Haymarket." (He was
about seventy years of age at the time.) "And would
you believe it, last night I sat in the House of
Commons next to a brewer-man" (giving the name),
" on the Conservative side of the House, too ! What
are things coming to ! "

While the regiment was quartered at Portsmouth,
Brailsford, Tuke, and I, with two companies, were
sent on detachment to Tipner, a fort about three
miles away, where we remained for some months.
In the neighbourhood was an enormous powder-
magazine, and I remember one day when the " pill "
of the regiment (a rather common little chap, named
Ferneley), who had come out to inspect the men,
pointed to the building, and asked, " What is that
big place ? " Brail, as we called him, who was not
very fond of the questioner, replied : " You put
your little carcase up there, with a lighted pipe in
your mouth, and you'll soon find out what it is."

A HASTY ORDER. 31

Tuke and I were very much together at this
time, and our principal amusement was to potter
about the harbour and the pools entering it, in a
boat that we had chartered, and christened the
"Forlorn Hope."

Our temporary exile at Tipner being at an end,
we returned to head-quarters ; and a day or two
afterwards an order came down from the Horse Guards,
to the effect that recruiting officers would shortly
make their appearance, to take off a number of our
men to the line.

We were an excellent body, close on a thousand
strong, and we had an exceptionally good Adjutant.
We were splendidly set up and disciplined, and a
finer regiment was never seen drilling on Southsea
Common. Though not a very liberal man, the
Colonel had spent a good deal of money upon his
men. On one occasion, indeed, he defrayed out of
his own pocket all the extra expenses attached to
twenty-one days' training at Grantham. When he
learnt that Her Majesty was about to take away a
certain number of his regiment for active service,
he became perfectly furious, and ordered the barrack
gates to be shut. It was not until Colonel Fane
pointed out to him that his ultimate destination, if
he persisted in this course, would be the Tower, or
some other building used for the incarceration of
seditious persons, that he consented to countermand
the order.

32 ARRIVAL OF THE RECRUITING SERGEANTS.

The recruiting sergeants were admitted, and a
commission was offered to every officer who, with
the sanction and at the nomination of his Colonel,
could get together a hundred men willing to follow
him to the line. I was subaltern of the light company
(there were flank companies in those days), and my
Captain happened at the time to be absent. Upon
my asking my men whether they would accept Her
Majesty's bounty, and proceed as regulars to fight
for their Queen and country, some fifty or sixty
of them stepped out from the ranks. Poor fellows !
I believe they thought that, into whatever regiment
they were drafted, they would go with their own
officer, though this hope was doomed to disappoint-
ment. As I was speaking to them, the Colonel came
up, and said: "You have always done your duty" —
(I am afraid I was rather a favourite of his) — " and
I like parting with you as little as I do with my
men ; but if a complement is made up, and you wish
it, you shall go too."

It was precisely the desire I had long entertained,
and I accepted the offer with gratitude. A few days
afterwards I learnt that in a short time I should
receive a nomination to some regiment of the line.

It was at Chichester and Portsmouth that I first
made my appearance in amateur theatricals. We
played at the Southsea Rooms, in aid of various
charities, and it was there that I first became ac-
quainted with Captain Disney Roebuck, with whom

THE EX-PAWNBROKER'S SON. 33

I was subsequently associated in my somewhat brief
experience of the stage.

About a fortnio-ht after the recruiting- in the barrack

O O

yard, I found myself gazetted to the 96th Foot, and, after
a short term of leave, I joined my regiment at head-
quarters in Dublin, in those days one of the cheeriest
of garrison towns. Cumberland was the Colonel, Currer
and Scovell were the Majors, and my Captain was a
very good-natured Scotchman named Grant.

A battalion of the 60th Rifles, the 16th Lancers,
the Queen's Bays, and the K. D. G.'s were quartered
in Dublin at the same time. Lord Carlisle was the
Lord Lieutenant, and he kept up the Castle festivities
with their usual pomp.

It was while here that I nearly got into a mess that
might have led to my early retirement from the service.

It happened that a young fellow named , the son

of a retired pawnbroker, had just ventured to join one
of Her Majesty's regiments of cavalry, in the capacity of
subaltern. The officers were furious, and everv device

' •/

was resorted to to get rid of him. Hay was made
in his room every day, and he was subjected to every
sort of bear-fighting. While at one of the afternoon

o o

levees at the Castle, I met a subaltern of the , and

he invited me to mess at the Portobello Barracks,
telling me that there were a number of fellows coming
from other regiments, and that there would be great
fun. I accepted the invitation, and duly arrived at
the barracks, where I found, among others, Bob Gracly,

VOL. I. D

34 AN UNPLEASANT ORDEAL.

of the 60th, C H (now a General, and in com-
mand of a cavalry regiment), Jack Dillon, and the

objectionable . After mess we adjourned to the

junior officers' quarters, where a regular orgie took place.
When the fun was at its height, it was suggested

that we should have a mock trial, and that , the

pawnbroker's progeny, should be arraigned for that he,
not being able properly to speak Her Majesty's English,

had ventured to join Her Majesty's . I was

appointed counsel for the prosecution, and the upshot of
the proceedings was that the offender was sentenced to
have his moustache and whiskers removed. A large
pair of scissors was procured, the poor wretch was held
down by the two junior cornets, and, in spite of his
shouts and struggles, the hair on one side .of his face
was entirely removed. We got no further, however, for
so violent grew his resistance that it was found im-
possible to operate on the other side.

At about three o'clock that morning four of us were
on an outside car, proceeding home. The excitement
was over, and no doubt the cool, fresh air had a
sobering effect upon our minds. I remarked to the
man sitting by my side, " There'll be a jolly row in the
morning." And there was.

After parade the Colonel called me out of the ranks,
and, in a tone of severity, told me to go and report
myself at the Portobello Barracks, and on my return to
consider myself under arrest. On arriving at the
barracks, I found, outside the mess-room, a knot of my

GETTING OUT OF THE SCRAPE. 35

companions of the night before, engaged in earnest
conversation. I joined them, asking eagerly what was
to be done, and whether they had interviewed our
victim that morning. On receiving, with reference to
the latter portion of my question, a reply in the
negative, I suggested that the sooner this course was
taken the better. Unless he got us out of the mess, I
pointed out, the Colonel would be sure to report us to
the Horse Guards, when it would be all up with us.
The question was, who should do it, and, as nobody
seemed particularly keen upon the idea, I volunteered
to take the matter in hand myself.

I went up to 's quarters, knocked at the door,

and was ushered in. A ludicrous sight met my eyes.
There stood , with enormous whiskers and mous-
tache on only one side of his face ! I couldn't help it,
and I burst out laughing, exclaiming : "My dear fellow,
why don't you take off the other side ? It's the only
way out of it/' Whether it was my good-humour,
or the absurdity of his appearance, as reflected in the
"lass, I cannot sav, but he, too, now burst out laughinGf,

C ' •/ ^ * DO*

and replied : " Upon my soul, I think you're right."
I told him how sorry we all were for what had

occurred, and begged that, when he was summoned to

the orderly-room, he would do the best he could for us.

He gave the required promise, which he faithfully kept;

and in the end we were fortunate enough to escape with

only a few days' arrest.

Dublin was no end of a place for gaiety. In the

D 2

36 I EXCHANGE REGIMENTS.

winter there were three or four balls every night, and
in the summer any number of picnics to Bray and other
beautiful spots in the neighbourhood of the Hibernian
capital.

Among the smartest and best-looking of the fellows
were Cootie Hutchinson, of the Bays, and his brother,
Sir Edward, nicknamed Pat. Cootie and I were at
Eton together, soldiers together, and, at the present
time, are members of the same clubs too-ether. I don't

O

know how it is with me, but as far as I can see, years
have not in the least degree changed him.

The Kingstown Regatta was a great function then,
and the dinners at Salt Hill were events to be re-
membered.

There was no chance of getting out to the Crimea in
the 96th, as the regiment was the last on the roster
for active service, and so I determined to exchange,
This I succeeded in doing, though not without difficulty.
I joined Her Majesty's 41st, the Welsh regiment. As
it was actually out in the Crimea at the time, I had
to report myself at the depot at "Walmer.

My hopes were doomed to a bitter disappointment,
however. Sebastopol was taken, the war was over,
and, instead of my going out to the regiment, the
regiment came home to me.

o

I was a bit of a poet in those days, and composed
a song on my new regiment. Its badge, I may state,
was the Prince of Wales' feathers, and its uniform was
scarlet, with white facings. The regimental band was

THE SONG I COMPOSED. 37

always preceded by a goat. During the Eussian war
no brigade distinguished itself more than that composed
of the 44th, the 49th, and the 41st. This is the song
that I composed :

Her mountains mourn, her bards are gone.

Who mourn the mighty dead 1
In vain the Saxon pressed his heel

Upon the Welshman's head :
Cambria still lives ; her ardent sons

Will yet maintain their ground — -
Long as the sun shall run his course,

And shed his light around.

That light shall still poor Cambria cheer,

Amidst her darkened fate ;
No more her children shed a tear

Upon her fallen state.
Fallen ! ah ! no, her kings shall rise,

Resume their ancient power ;
Cambria again shall be herself,

And clouds no longer lower.

Llewellyn shall resume his sway,

Cadwallon king again ;
All thoughts of former pain shall cease

Hushed 'neath the harper's strain ;
Then once again the wassail bowl

Shall pass, and lays resound ;
Songs sung in honour of the day,

When Cambria stood her ground.

Amidst the fight, who leads the van ?

Whose hearts for glory thirst 1
Go ask at Alma, Inkermann —

They'll say the Forty-first,
Time shall not change Talhion's songs,

The Eisteddfod still prevails,
The Welsh their dauntless name preserve,

Their chief, the Prince of Wales.

38 WRITING A DUNCE'S LOVE-LETTER.

This effusion gained for me the reputation of a poet,
and one of the consequences was that a queer favour
was asked of me. In the regiment was a great dunce,
who experienced considerable difficulty in conducting
his private correspondence. Being of a sentimental turn
he had fallen over head and ears in love with one of
the garrison beauties, and he came to me and begged
that I would write a love-letter for him. I consented,
but while engaged on the composition, he, apparently
thinking I was approaching too near to popping the
question, looked up and said : " Oh, I say, Monty,
hang it all : hold hard, old fellow. Ain't that rather

o '

too strong ? Don't you think we had better say some-
thing about the weather ? '

CHAPTER IV.

ABMA DEFUNCTUMQUE BELLO
BARB1TON HIC PARIES HABEBIT.

Life at Walmer — Unpleasant officers — How I offended the Colonel —
The "Subalterns' Arms"- -I ask to be exchanged — Our impecu-
niosity — How I humbugged the sheriff's officer — I make a bolt
for it — Jumbo and I ask leave — We proceed to London — The
newspaper advertisement — Interviewing the money-lender — His
terms — We call upon his "friend" — A singular breakfast —
"Merely a matter of form" — A disturbance in the street — Jumbo
and I arrested — We are taken before the magistrate and fined —
Visit from " Captain Curtis "- -The trick played upon us — -My
father and godfather to the rescue — I return to Walmer, and
leave the service.

MY life was not so pleasant at Walmer as it had
been at Dublin and Portsmouth. The depot battalion
system had just commenced, and under it I felt almost
as though I were at school again. Then, too, I was
not fortunate in my officers, which was the more
unpleasant because I had been rather spoiled by those
under whom I had previously served. The Colonel
Commandant, whose name was Eyre, was a regular
martinet ; and the second in command, Major Deverill,
about as disagreeable a man as you could meet in a
day's march. However, there were some very good

40 WHY THE COLONEL WAS ANGRY.

fellows at the depot ; Captain Gregory, of the 44th, for
instance, and Captain Earle, who afterwards exchanged
into the Guards, and, as General Eaiie, met a soldier's
death in Egypt. There were also some very decent
comrades in my own corps.

Unfortunately for me, I soon fell into the Colonel's
bad graces. His antipathy, if I remember aright, dated
from the time when Gregory, in a thoughtless moment,
showed him some doggerel I had written. It had
reference to the state of things then existing at the
depot, and the following were some of the lines, which
I repeat as well as I can remember them :

But things now are changed, and these tatterdemalions
Are ranged right and left into depot battalions.
At "\Yalmer — how warrn ! — all will own who are fair,
Though the climate is good, there's a d— - nasty Eyre.

I and two other subalterns — Johnson, nicknamed
Jumbo, and Warner — desiring to supplement the ac-
commodation afforded by our quarters in barracks,
rented a little cottage just outside Deal. Among the
other men, it came to be known as the " Subalterns'
Arms," a name that perhaps will indicate, better than
any description of mine, the festive uses to which the
place was put. Somehow or other the Colonel came to
hear about our cottage, and in consequence I received
a severe reprimand. After dilating upon the enormity
of our offence, he said : "You are the ringleader of the
lot. No doubt you think yourself remarkably clever,
what with your lampoons and your dramatic per-

UNWELCOME VISITORS. 41

formances" (we had been having some amateur
theatricals), <: but I can tell you this, sir — if you want
to stay here you'll have to turn over a completely new
leaf."

In a short time the head-quarters of the regiment
returned from abroad, and became quartered at
Shorncliffe. Knowing that, after what had occurred,
I should never get on at the depot, I determined to go
over and see Colonel Goodwin, the commanding officer
of the regiment, and entreat him, if he wished me to

O '

remain in the service, to exchange me for somebody at
head-quarters. He was a very good fellow, and after
reading me a lecture on my misdeeds, promised to have
me transferred as soon as an opportunity should occur.

The desired chance was a long while coming, and I
was still at Walmer when circumstances arose that
made it necessary for me to obtain leave of absence
for a short time. All of us at the depot were in a
terrible state of impecuuiosity, and I, Jumbo, and
a comrade named Talmage were perfectly well aware,
having received documents commencing, " Victoria, by
the Grace of God," etc., that our personal liberty was
threatened by the sheriff's officer.

One morning, at a fall-dress parade, it was
whispered that the minions of the law were in the
barrack-yard. The instant we were dismissed, those
who had to fear the worst bolted like rats to their
quarters. As I was hurrying upstairs, and just as I
was approaching my room, I came face to face with one

42 AN IGNOMINIOUS FLIGHT.

of the unwelcome visitors. He stopped me, saying,
' I beg your pardon, sir, but could you direct me to
Mr. Williams' quarters ? " Having sent him off in the
opposite direction, I ran into my room, left a message
with my servant for some of my companions, and
then — fully equipped with shako, sword, and full-
dress uniform — I passed out at one of the back
doors, and bolted across the fields in the direction
of Sandwich.

Luckily for me it was a Saturday. Another for-
tunate circumstance was that Sandwich, at this time,
was outside the district of the sheriff's officer. If I could
only reach Sandwich and stay there until twelve at
night, I knew I should be free to return to Walmer, and
remain there over the Sunday, without fear of arrest.

As I was crossing the fields, I met a pack of harriers
in full cry. It was the pack that hunted in the
immediate neighbourhood of Walmer, and most of the
fellows were known to me. It amused them very much
to learn how I came to appear among them in so
unusual a costume.

I reached Sandwich all right, and took up my
quarters in the billiard-room of the hotel, whiling away
my time by a game with the marker. Presently Jumbo
and Talmage, who had been apprised of my proceeding
by the message I had left with my servant, arrived in a
dog-cart, and, at the proper time, they took me back to
Walmer. In the morning it was necessary for me to go
and make a clean breast of it to Eyre, and ask for leave

VISITING THE MONEY-LENDER. 43

to go up to London and raise the money to discharge
my liabilities. Jumbo was forced to do the same, and
he joined in my request for a fortnight's leave.

I am bound to say that Eyre behaved rather well.
Of course he was, or affected to be, very angry ; but he
granted the request in both cases. There was no train
on Sunday night from Deal, so we hired a trap and
drove over to Dover, where we caught an express to
town.

On arriving in the metropolis, we proceeded to
"Lane's Hotel," the habitual resort of subalterns in
those days, and situated in a street just off the
Haymarket. Here we determined to remain until we
had accomplished the object of our journey.

Jumbo had seen, in the columns of a daily paper,
an advertisement headed, " To all who are in debt
or difficulties," and offering accommodation upon the
most benevolent and easy terms. The reader was

directed to apply to A , at some number in Eegent

Street, Waterloo Place. Here, then, was our man,
and here was an end of all our difficulties !

On Monday morning we interviewed A . He

was a fat, sleek, over-dressed, under-bred individual,
wearing any number of rings ; and we found him
in a gaudily-furnished office, smoking a very large
cigar. After learning our errand, and inquiring what
accommodation we required, he asked whether our
commissions had been purchased (Jumbo's had), and
various other questions. He then went on to say

44 USURY.

that he did not lend money himself, but that he had
a friend in the neighbourhood who did, and that, if
we would call arain on the following mornino-, he

° O O *

would in the meantime see what could be done towards
meeting our requirements. We called as directed on
the following clay, and learnt that the money could
be lent us upon a joint bill at three months, we
paying, as I afterwards reckoned, about 130 per cent.

interest for the accommodation, not to mention A 's

commission of about £20.

Our position was such that we greedily accepted
the terms, whereupon we were taken to a house in
Warwick Street, Golden Square. The door was opened
by a very slipshod-looking servant, and we entered
a passage where there was no oil- cloth, and which
was as dirty a hole as ever I saw. Our conductor
and guide requested us to remain here a few minutes,
while he entered and interviewed his principal. Just
as my stock of patience was becoming exhausted,
A reappeared and ushered us in.

On the front door, as I omitted to mention, was a
brass plate, on which was the name of Cook. This Mr.
Cook, we now learnt, was the individual who was to
lend us the money. He was seated at a desk, engaged
with what I presume was his breakfast, though the hour
was nearly noon. The meal consisted of a sausage, and
on no other occasion have I seen a sausage cut into such
small pieces, or eaten with such deliberation.

After addressing a few questions to us, Mr. Cook

A STREET DISTURBANCE. 45

produced his cheque-book and proceeded leisurely to
write out a cheque. The bill was for £500, from which
sum he took care- to deduct the interest in advance, as
well as the amount of the stamp and of A 's com-
mission. The bill being signed, accepted, and endorsed,
I put out my hand to grasp the cheque ; but it appeared
that I was a little premature. Before the money became
ours, we were told, there was another ceremony to be
gone through. We were to be taken to a neighbouring
solicitor's office, where there was a second document for
us to sign — " a mere matter of form," we were assured.
We went, accordingly, to the solicitor's office, and, upon
being again told that the proceeding was purely a
formal one, we both of us signed the document without
reading a word of it.

Two nights afterwards, Jumbo and I, after going
to the theatre, had supper at the " Cafe de 1'Europe,"
in the Haymarket. Just as we were leaving to
proceed to the hotel (it was about one o'clock in the
morning), we came across a crowd on the pavement.
I should mention that at this time there were several
of our brother officers in town, and, among the num-
ber, Jack L— -, whose name, as he has since turned
parson and gone into the Church, I suppress. On
running up to the crowd to see what was the matter,

judge of our surprise to see L , as the central

figure, in the grasp of a constable. He explained to us
that, seeing the policeman brutally ill-treating a poor
woman — probably one of the midnight wanderers of

46 TAKEN BEFOEE THE MAGISTRATE.

the streets — lie had raised a protest, whereupon the
representative of the law put his knuckles well into
his throat, and said he would take him to Vine
Street Station. Knowing that I could rely upon what

had been told me, and that L • was innocent

of any intention to break the peace, I endeavoured
to set matters right, giving the policeman our names
and addresses. While I was thus engaged, another

O O '

policeman canie up and caught hold of me, where-
upon we were dragged through the streets and taken
to the station.

To my horror and astonishment, we were charged
with assaulting the police. The inspector, who, I
am bound to say, was most courteous, put a number
of questions to us ; after which, on sending for the
proprietor of "Lane's Hotel," who came and bailed us
out, we were released. Next morning we made our

o

appearance before the worthy magistrate at Marl-
borough Street, Mr. B- -n, who, after hearing
the evidence of the constables, as well as of the
witnesses who came forward on our behalf, decided,
Heaven knows why, in favour of the police, fining
us five pounds and binding us over to keep the peace.
There was nothing for it, so we paid the fine and
left the court ; and the next morning there appeared
in the newspapers a charming little paragraph, headed
" Officers and Gentlemen," setting forth the facts as
stated by the constables, and, of course, giving our
right names and addresses.

THE MONEY-LENDER'S TEAP. 47

Two clays after this, as Jumbo and I were break-
fasting at the hotel, one of the waiters came up and
said to me : " Captain Curtis wishes to see you, sir."
I had known an officer of that name in the 15th
Foot, and I at once told the waiter to show the gentle-
man up. Now, any one less like a captain than the
individual who appeared, I never saw. He* was both
shabby and dirty. Approaching the table, he told
me that he was a sheriff's officer, and that I must
consider myself in his custody ; and he concluded
with the request that I would at once follow him to
the cab waiting outside. " "What is the meaning of
this ? " I cried ; for I had paid the debt for which
process had been issued against me at "Walmer. " I
don't owe anything. There must be some mistake."

" Oh, no," replied he, " it's right enough. It's at the
suit of Mr. Cook, of Warwick Street."

" But," I protested, " the bill was for three months,
and I only signed it four days ago."

"Ah, yes, sir," he said, "but you must forget
signing another document at the same time. By doing
so you confessed judgment, and you were liable to be
arrested the moment you took your pen off the paper."

Now I saw how we had been done. We had been
caught in the money-lender's trap. I will not state here
how, and under what circumstances, Mr. Cook and I
met in after years, when I was practising my profession
at the Bar. Suffice it for the present to say that I
owed him a debt, and paid it with interest.

48 I LEAVE THE SERVICE.

I had at the time to appeal to my father and god
father for assistance, which was, as it always had been,
liberally and generously accorded me. The money was
paid, and I was liberated.

On my return to Walmer, I found a letter from
Colonel Goodwin, ordering me to head-quarters, the
opportunity having occurred to have me transferred.

For several months I remained in camp, getting
on fairly well, and then the regiment was ordered again
on foreign service, its destination this time being the
West Indies. Both Jumbo and I — though he had
served considerably longer than I — had now had about
enough of soldiering, and, therefore, a few days before
the regiment sailed, we sent in our papers and retired.

CHAPTER V.

OJINIA VINCIT AMOR.

I stay with my parents at Beading — Visit from Disney Boebuck —
Our amateur theatricals — We resolve to go on the stage — Our
early engagements — An eventful introduction — Miss Keeley hears
me my lines — I meet Henry Irving — Playing in the Potteries
— Mrs. Patch — Why I went to Dublin — My marriage — My
wife's parents — We take a house in Pelham Street — Another
provincial tour — Mrs. Wyndham — Johnny Toole — I leave the
stage — Beminiscences of Keeley — Mrs. Keeley's versatility —
Adelphi dramas — Visitors at Pelham Crescent — Mr. and Mrs.
Alfred Wigan — Mr. and Mrs. Levy — The Daily Telegraph
— Mr. Edward Lawson — I enter at the Inner Temple — Frank
Burnand — He and I write plays together — I take a manuscript
to Bobson — The price paid for it.

MY father and mother were at this time living at
Beading, in Berkshire, and I went to stay with them
for a few weeks. While there, Disney Roebuck came
to visit me, and we got up some amateur theatricals.
We played for several nights in the Town Hall, the
pieces being, Delicate Ground (in which Roebuck took
the part of Sangfroid and I that of Alfonse de
Grandier), The Dream at Sea, The Wreck Ashore,

VOL. I. E

50 STARRING IN THE PROVINCES.

The Lady of Lyons, and Raising the Wind. At that
time there was a military coach on Castle Hill, and
it was from the ranks of his pupils that we formed
our company. Among the number was ' Dolly '
Wombwell (brother to Sir George), Gumming, Palliser,
and Haldane.

It was as an outcome of those performances that
Koebuck and I determined, if we could get engage-
ments, to star in the provinces. I left the business
arrangements to him, and in due time we started,
our first town being Manchester. The lessee there was
John Knowles, a man very well known in dramatic
circles. A marble mason by trade, and a great
connoisseur of pictures, he left the theatre almost
entirely in the hands of his acting manager, Mr.
Chambers. We played for a week, and met with
considerable success. The pieces we opened with were
The Wonder ; or, a Woman keeps the Secret — Roebuck
taking the part of Don Felix and I that of Colonel
Britton — and The Camp at Chobham, in which I
sustained the role of Colonel Darner. From Man-
chester we proceeded to Birmingham, where the lessee
and manager was Mr. Simpson, and to Worcester
and Coventry, the lessee of the theatres in those
towns being Mr. J. Rogers.

The next towns for which we procured engage-
ments were Edinburgh and Glasgow, and it was at
the former that the principal event of my life happened.
Here it was that I first met the lady who was shortly

MISS LOUISE KEELEY. 51

to become my wife. The proprietors of the Theatre
Royal were my now old friends, Mr. and Mrs. Robert
Wyndham ; and it was Mrs. Wyndham to whom I
owed the memorable introduction.

Miss Louise Keeley, the youngest daughter of the
celebrated Mr. and Mrs, Robert Keeley, was at that
time starring in Edinburgh. Roebuck and I arrived on

o o

a Saturday, in readiness to commence on the Monday,
and it happened that Miss Keeley 's engagement termi-
nated on the following Thursday. On reaching the
northern metropolis, having nothing better to do, we
strolled round to the theatre to discuss arrangements
with the manageress ; for it was Mrs. Wyndham who
entirely superintended all matters of stage manage-
ment, and was in fact chiefly responsible for the
well-doino1 of this most successful theatre. I was on

O

the stage, leaning against one of the boxes, and my
eyes were, I presume, wandering towards the talented
little lady who was to become so great a blessing
to a portion of my future. Mrs. Wyndham, calling
me over, said: "I have much pleasure in introducing
you to Miss Louise Keeley." We at once commenced
a conversation, and very quickly became friends. The
next day I, not being quite perfect in the part I was
to play on the Monday night, was wandering in the
neighbourhood of Arthur's Seat, studying my lines,
when whom should I meet but the lady to whom I
had been introduced on the previous morning. We
walked together for a considerable time, and in the

E 2

52 NATURAL LOVE-MAKING.

end I asked her to hear me my part — a favour that
was at once granted.

O

For the Thursday, Miss Keeley's last night,
Mrs. Wyndham suggested that we should play London
Assurance, Roebuck taking the part of Dazzle, I
that of Charles Courtley, and Miss Keeley that of
Grace Harkaway. As a matter of fact, the part
of Charles Courtley, of which I had never seen a
line, is one of the longest of the kind on the stage ;
but so anxious was I to sustain the role that I at
once agreed to the arrangement. To such good purpose
did I put the short time at my disposal that, at the
rehearsal on Thursday morning, I was letter-perfect.
At night the play was a great success, and I have often
heard Mrs. Wyndham say that in all her 'experience,
she has never known Charles Courtley make love to
Grace as naturally as I did on that occasion.

It was at this theatre, and during this and sub-
sequent engagements, that I came in contact with my
friend Mr. Henry Irving, who was a stock actor in the
company at that time, playing walking gentleman.

From Edinburgh Eoebuck and I proceeded to
Glasgow, the theatre there being under the management
of Mr. Edmund Glover. From Glasgow we went to
Perth, and from Perth to Newcastle, the lessee at the
latter place being Mr. E. D. Davies. From Newcastle
we proceeded to Hanley and other towns in the Pot-
teries. I shall never forget those towns. At Bilston,
one of them, on the morning after our arrival, we

PLAYING IN THE POTTERIES. 53

sallied forth to find the theatre. The most awful build-
ing imaginable was pointed out to us, and when we got
inside, we found that it was all pit and gallery, with no
boxes or stalls. The manageress, Mrs. Patch, lived just
outside the theatre, in a four-wheeled vehicle that looked
uncommonly like a travelling caravan. We had
arranged to play for our opening piece, The Wonderful
Woman — I taking the part of Crepin, the cobbler, and
Roebuck that of the Marquis de Frontignac — and upon
presenting ourselves at rehearsal, we found the gentleman
who was to sustain the role of the Count de Millefleur
standing on a ladder with a pail of whitewash and a
brush, busily engaged in distempering the ceiling.
When rehearsal commenced, we were introduced to the
leading lady, who was to play the part of Hortense,
and found that she was none other than Mrs. Patch
herself, a lady who must have turned the scale at
fourteen or fifteen stone.

Hanley was a primitive place, and so were all the
towns in the Potteries. If the audiences there did
not appreciate the merits of a debutant, their ordinary
way of expressing displeasure was, as they termed it,
'•'to heave half a brick at him."

It was on leaving Hanley that Roebuck and I
parted company ; he going home to his wife and
family, who lived at Ryde, and I proceeding to
London.

On the Saturday after my arrival, on scanning
the pages of The Era, I learnt that Miss Keeley was

54 MY MARRIAGE.

playing at the Queen's Theatre, Dublin, then under
the management of Mr. Harry Webb. The fact is,
I had completely lost my heart, and I determined to
start at once for Dublin, taking my chance of
obtaining an engagement there. I carried out my
intention, and the engagement I formed was a
matrimonial one. I duly proposed and was accepted,
but as, so far as we were personally concerned, we were
both, comparatively speaking, paupers, we knew that
it would be useless to ask our parents' consent to the
marriao-e. We therefore £jot married without their

o o

consent, and without consulting any one.

We came up to London, and my wife at once
introduced me to her parents. They were, of course,
at first rather angry with us for not having taken
them into our confidences ; but they very soon re-
lented, and we were forgiven. They were then living
at Pelhani Crescent, Brompton, in the house that
Mrs. Keeley still occupies. Though past the honoured
age of three-score years and ten, she is, I am happy
to say, almost as hale and hearty as ever. My wife
and I took a small house in Pelham Street, in order
to be near at hand, and, while it was being prepared
for our reception, we went on another provincial
tour. We obtained an engagement to play for a
fortnight in Edinburgh, the period being subsequently
extended to a month. We lived in lodgings in
Prince's Street, and saw a great deal of the Wyndhams.
Irving was still in their company, and it was during

I LEAVE THE STAGE. 55

this eno-a^ement that he and I became the close

o o

friends we have ever since remained.

In addition to her town house, Mrs. Wyndham
had a country cottage, situated a few miles out of
Edinburgh ; and the Sundays we passed there I now
reckon among the happiest of my life. From Edinburgh
we went to Belfast, where the lessee was a man named
Cook, and it was during my stay in this town that
I became acquainted with my good friend Johnny
Toole. His engagement ran simultaneously with ours,
and among the pieces we performed was The Winter 8
Tale, he playing Autolycus, and my wife, Florizel.
It was at this time that I first heard him sing his
afterwards celebrated song, "A 'norrible Tale."

From Belfast we proceeded to Sunderland and
South Shields, the theatres there being the property
of Sam Eoxby, the brother of William Beverley, Bob
Eoxby, and Harry Beverley — names well known in all
theatrical circles. We played at Sunderland and South
Shields for about a fortnight, and took Nottingham
on our way home, having accepted an offer from Mrs.
Savile to perform there for a few nights.

This was the end of my experience as an actor,
for, on our return to Pelhani Street, as the result of
a long conversation with my father-in-law, I determined
to leave the stage and enter myself as a student at
one of the Inns of Court.

It was now that I made the acquaintance of many
theatrical and literary people. Brompton was the

56 ME. KEELEY.

quarter in which they mostly resided, and the Keeleys'
house was not the least hospitable in the neighbourhood.
It is a curious thing that, in my school days, when
I came up to town to spend the holidays with friends,
I always showed a fondness for theatres, and above
all for the Adelphi, where the Keeleys were principally
engaged. This was before they became lessees, first
at the Lyceum, and then, in partnership with Charles
Kean, at the Princess's.

Who ever saw a better exponent of terror and
cowardice than Mr. Keeley ? I shall never forget him
in The Serjeant's Wife, in which he played Eobin to
Mrs. Keeley 's Margot. There is one situation in the
piece that lives especially in my memory. Eobin finds
out that he is the servant of a band of robbers, that
they have been committing no end of murders, and
that the bodies of the victims have been buried in
the wood-house. He comes and relates the discovery
to his wife, and tells her how, on going into the
wood-house to get some wood, " I saw his heels,
Margot, I saw his heels." Then, again, I well re-
member how, in describing a conversation he had
had with his master, the captain of the band, he
states what his feelings were when the robber patted
him on the head, with the words : " Eobin, Eobin,
how plump you are ! "

The humorous predominated in Keeley, and he was
particularly strong as the comic servant. In this
personification he made no pretence to virtue, and

ADELPHI DRAMAS. r>"

yet, even in his moments of abject terror, he was never
quite despicable. Somehow or other he contrived to
make you feel that courage ought not to be expected
of him.

Mrs. Keeley was more versatile than her husband.
She was especially good in pathetic parts. I never saw
her Jack Sheppard, but I believe it was a marvel.
Her Lucille, in the play of that name, taken from
Bulwer's " Pilgrims of the Rhine," was a perfect gem ;
and -who, on the other hand, does not remember her
Betsy Baker, and her acting in Twice Killed, That
Blessed Bciby, etc. ?

How well I remember the dramas played at the
Adelphi in my early days ! What dramas they were !
The hero was taken by Benjamin Webster, the finest
melodramatic actor I ever saw, not even excepting
Lemaitre. He was magnificent in The Willow Copse,
Jannet Pride (in which Keeley also was immense),
and Geneviiice ; or the Chevalier de Maison Rouge,
which I saw with a remarkable cast : Webster was
Dixmer ; Alfred Wigan, Lorin ; Leigh Murray, the
Chevalier ; Mrs. Keeley, the flower girl of the Temple;
and Celeste, the heroine. Then again, after the Keeleys
had left the Adelphi, among the pieces given were The
Green Bushes and The Flowers of the Forest, in both of
which it was my privilege to see Wright and Paul
Bedford in their inimitable roles.

Keeley was quite as funny off the stage as he was
on ; indeed, I always thought that, if possible, he was

58 STORY OF A PIG.

even more so. He delighted in telling a story, and the
expression of his face always made you roar with
laughter before he began.

We became great friends with Edmund Yates and
his beautiful wife, Shirley Brooks, Dickens, Blanche,
Albert Smith (who married my only sister-in-law,
Mary), Charles Mathews, and Frank Talfourd, not
to forget "Old Frankie " and Mrs. Frank Matthews,
whose hospitable house in Linden Grove was always
crowded with friends.

Mr. Keeley was very fond of telling stories of his
wife, to whom he was most devotedly attached, and
I remember one of them that caused a good deal of
merriment as related. Shirley Brooks, it appeared,
had gone to live in a little cottage iu the country,
where he devoted himself, among other things, to
the rearing of fowls, ducks, and pigs. One day a pig
was killed, and he sent a portion of the animal in a
parcel to Mrs. Keeley, with these lines : " His end
was peace, so I send you a piece of his end." Roaring
with laughter, the old gentleman would say, alluding
to his wife : " Mother was telling the story the other
day to somebody sitting next to her at dinner, and she
remarked, ' So clever of Shirley, you know ; when he
sent us the parcel he wrote on a piece of paper inside,
" His end was peace, so I send you a bit of the pig."

This is another story Mr. Keeley was never tired of
telling. In his early married life, he, Jack Eeeve, Frank
Matthews, and some others were in the habit of re-

A PRACTICAL JOKE. 59-

pairing to Kilpack's, a cigar shop and bowling alley, next
door to Evans's in Covent Garden. Upstairs was a
small sort of club, and, going there on Saturday night
to play unlimited loo, they would sometimes remain
until five or six o'clock on Sunday morning. On one
occasion, it appeared, on going home to his lodgings in
Lono- Acre, at some such unseasonable hour as this,

O y

Mr. Keeley found his better half fast asleep. It
happened that he was carrying in his pocket a bundle
of notes, representing his and his wife's salary, which
had been paid that afternoon, and he proceeded to
carefully deposit them all in one of his boots, afterwards
creeping noiselessly into bed. In the morning, Mrs.
Keeley, as was her custom, rose early and without
disturbing her husband.

Frank Matthews was in the habit of calling every
Sunday morning to go with Mr. Keeley for a walk over
Hampstead, or in the neighbourhood of Putney, or
elsewhere. On this particular Sunday, on his arrival he
found " Mary Mother," as he called her, in the sitting-
room, in tears. Upon his asking, " Where is Bob ? ):
she replied: "Where should he be but fast asleep in
bed ? Nice hours to keep — five o'clock in the morning
indeed ! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Frank,
for I'm sure you were with him. What's worse, on
looking in his pocket, I find that he's lost all our
money." "But, my dear," said Frank, "that's im-
possible. I was with him all the time, and he couldn't
possibly have lost it. Why, I walked with him as far

60 MR. AND MRS. ALFRED WIGAN.

as the door, too, so you must be making a mistake."
" No, no," she sobbed, " I'm not making a mistake.
All my hard-earned money is gone — there's not a
shilling left."

Frank went into the next room to see if his friend
was awake, and to learn whether the facts were as
stated. He found Keeley sitting up in bed, screaming
with laughter. " Shut the door, Frank, shut the door,"
he cried ; and when this had been done, he said, with
that extraordinary twinkle that so often appeared in his
eye: "She thought I was asleep. First, she searched
my waistcoat, then my trousers, and then my coat, but
found nothing. It's all right, Frank, the money's in
my boots."

Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Wigan were great friends of
the Keeleys. Mrs. Wigan's Christian name was
Leonora, and she had acted with Mrs. Keeley and
been a friend of hers before their marriages. One day
while we were sitting at dinner in Pelham Crescent,
somebody remarked that Mrs. Wigan was eating
nothing, whereupon she replied : " Oh, I never have
much of an appetite, have I, Bob ? Don't you
remember wheH you used to put a pea upon my plate,
and say, ' There, that's Leonora's dinner ' ? ': I shall
never forget the old gentleman turning round to me

O O ^

and quietly saying : " Upon my soul, I never put a pea
upon her plate." It was not that there was anything in
what he said ; the humour lay in the indescribable
manner in which he said it.

KEELEY AND THE JEWISH SOLICITOR. 61

"When I was a student at the Temple, a dinner-
party was given, I believe in my interest, to people
connected with the legal professions. Among those
present was a solicitor of Eastern origin, and Mrs.
Keeley, knowing her husband's antipathy to Jews,
warned him to be careful what he said before his guest,
adding : "You know it would never do to offend him ;
he may be so useful to Montagu." The dinner went
off all right, and afterwards a rubber of whist was
suggested. This was Mr. Keeley 's favourite amuse-
ment, and he used to play almost every afternoon at
the Garrick, of which club he was an old and much
esteemed member. We cut for partners, it falling
to my lot to play with Joe Langford, while Keeley
was paired with the Eastern gentleman. In the
middle of the game, while the cards were being dealt,
Keeley 's partner remarked to him :

"Mr. Keeley, I have always been against the
intermarriages of Jews and Christians. You know,
there are so few of the one in comparison with the
other, and if these marriages took place to any extent,
the whole Hebrew race would be merged, and there
would be no Jews."

To which Mr. Keeley, who hated conversation
during whist, retorted angrily :

" And a d good job, too."

I shall never forget the missis's face !

Not many mouths before his death, Keeley was
playing whist at the Garrick, his partner being Henry

62 AN OUTSPOKEN WHIST-PLAYEPw

James, now Sir Henry. When the rubber was over,
after a moment's thought, he turned to James and
asked :

" Why didn't you lead spades ? "

The answer was :

" I didn't think it the game."

" Well, then, you're a fool," said Keeley, and
petulantly shuffled out of the room.

Of course we were all rather astonished ; but nobody
ever took much notice of what he said, and the matter
passed off with a laugh. A few days afterwards, as
James was passing up the staircase at the Garrick,
on his way to the card-room, Keeley 's four-wheeled
cab drew up at the door, and the old gentleman
alighted. Catching sight of the receding figure of

o o o o o

the future Attorney-General, he rattled with his stick
upon the tesselated pavement, and cried out " Hi ! "

James, seeing who it was, at once ran back, never
doubting that he was about to receive an apology
for what had recently taken place.

" I have been thinking," said Keeley, with the
stolid expression his face so often wore, " over that
little affair about the spades, and I find that I was
right — you are a fool."

Keeley was a man of remarkable generosity and
kindness of heart, an excellent friend and the cheeriest
of companions. He was very much attached to the
husband of his daughter Mary, Albert Smith, who,
as all that knew him can testify, was himself one

" THE DAILY TELEGRAPH." 63

of the liveliest and best of companions. Unlike Keeley,
however, his jokes and stories were not untinged
with acidity.

It was during the first year of my married life
that I became acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Levy.
Tlie Daily Telegraph was then in its infancy. The
paper-duty had not been repealed, and Mr. Joseph
Moses Levy, the principal proprietor of the new
journal, lived at the West Central part of London,
in Doughty Street, Mecklenburgh Square. Here I
was ever a welcome guest, as I have since been at
Eussell Square and Lancaster Gate. Mr. Levy's
eldest son, Edward (now Edward Lawson), under
whose management the paper has been such an
enormous and world-wide success, had just married
Benjamin Webster's daughter, who was one of the
most beautiful and accomplished women in London.
My acquaintance with her dates back to some period
before her marriage. I may say here, speaking of
the Levys generally, that a more hospitable, pleasant,
and unassuming family did not exist. They were
strict Jews, and brought up their numerous family
according to all the rites and ceremonies of the reli-

O

gion, keeping most rigidly all the Hebrew feasts and
festivals.

Before being called to the Bar, I had to spend
three years as a student at the Inner Temple. I ate
my dinners in the same mess with my old friend and
school-fellow Frank Burnand, and with Henry (now

64 WRITING PLAYS WITH FRANK BURNAND.

Baron Henry) de Worms. The latter had been study-
ing as a medical student, but his inclinations on the
subject of a profession had undergone a change. We
three attended the lectures together, and, principally
owing to Frank's good stories and excruciating jokes,
were on more than one occasion nearly expelled from
the lecture-room.

Frank was living in Sydney Street, Brompton,
and I was still at Pelham Street. With a view to
making a little money during our student days, we
became hangers-on to the skirts of literature. We
wrote for one or two small papers, did London letters
for locals, and were interested in a little venture of
the magazine type, called The Drawing-Room.

It was at this time, too, that Frank and I became
partners in dramatic authorship. One day I called at
Sydney Street with a bright face. The fight between
Tom Sayers and the Benicia Boy was on the tapis at
the time, and it had given me what I conceived to be
a splendid idea for a farce. I imparted the plot to
Frank, and he was immensely taken with it. We set to
work at once, I walking about the room, and Frank
wielding the pen. It was eleven o'clock when we com-
menced, and by half-past three that afternoon we had
finished our work. With the ink scarcely dry I ran
round with the MS. to Pelham Crescent, eager to show
it to my father-in-law. Having read it, he put it down
with these words : "I wish I was still acting, for I
should like to play it myself. You needn't have any

DISPOSING OF A MANUSCRIPT. 65

fear of getting rid of it. Take it round to-night to
Robson at the Olympic — he'll jump at it." I did as he
directed.

Albert Smith used to say, and I am inclined to
agree with him, that there is only one person of
a lower grade than the call-boy at a theatre, and
that is the author. If he is an unknown man, he
has to overcome many difficulties before he can see
the manager. I had forgotten to ask Mr. Keeley
for a letter of introduction, which would have been
safe conduct to the presence of Mr. Emden, then
Robson's acting manager and partner. Robson had
another partner, who occupied the supreme position,
as he represented the money. This gentleman was,
and is, a well-known Conservative Member of Par-
liament, distinguished as a connoisseur of pictures,
and I happen to know that he made a very good
thing out of his connection with the Olympic.

After being kept waiting for about three-quarters
of an hour in the passage leading to the green-
room, I was ushered into the presence of Mr. Emden.
I told him my errand, produced the MS., and men-
tioned what Mr. Keeley had said about it. He
promised that when Robson came off the stage (he
was then playing Shylock in Frank Talfourd's
burlesque) they would read the farce together, and
let me know their verdict at once. He then left
me, but in due time reappeared, and made the
welcome announcement that both he and Robson

VOL. I. F

66 MY BAD BARGAIN.

were very pleased with the farce, and that, if we
could come to terms, it should be put in rehearsal
at once. He added that, as they could not make
me an offer before first consulting their partner, he
would feel obliged if I would call again next day.
I did as directed, and on the following morning was
offered thirty pounds for the sole London right of the
farce ! Being desperately hard up and knowing that
Frank was in the same plight, and being perfectly
ignorant on the subject of authors' remuneration, I
at once closed with the offer, and took the cheque.
When I returned, Frank received his fifteen pounds
with delight, but my father-in-law called me a fool
for having taken so small a sum. He was right, for
the farce was an enormous success and aided in
keeping the theatre going for months, it being per-
formed for something like two hundred nig;hts. In

o o

those days, be it remembered, a farce could take a
very strong hold upon the public. There was a
half-price to all parts of the theatre, and the farce
was often the staple commodity of the management.

Shortly after my transaction at the Olympic, Alfred
Wigan took the St. James's Theatre, in partnership
with Miss Herbert. Having heard of the success of our
farce, he sent for me, and said he had a French drama
that he was desirous of adapting, and asked whether
Frank and I would undertake the work. I readily
assented, whereupon he produced La Dame de St.
Tropcz. saying that he wished the adaptation to be

A LARGER CHEQUE. 67

ready in a fortnight, and promising, upon its production,
supposing he were satisfied with our work, to hand us a
cheque for one hundred pounds. I agreed to the terms,
the work was done, and the play was produced. It
proved very successful, and had what in those days was
a very long run. From that time Frank and I devoted
ourselves to dramatic authorship, and we managed to
get several little pieces — produced either in collaboration
or otherwise — placed at various London theatres.

P 2

CHAPTER VI.

CEDUNT ARMA TOG^E,

Serjeant Parry's advice — I enter Mr. Holl's chambers — Attending the
Sessions — The resolution I come to — I am called to the Bar —
My first brief — Pleasure gives way to fright — I lose the case —
My despair — Hardinge-Giffard, Sleigh, Metcalfe, Ballantine, and
others — Messrs. Lewis and Lewis — Bob Orridge's bet — An
exception to the general rule.

As soon as I had resolved to read for the Bar, I, by the
desire of my father-in-law, visited his old friend Serjeant
Parry, to learn what steps I should take, preparatory to
being called, to ground myself in the rudiments of my
future profession. The first thing he did was to write
out a list of law books for me to read. This list, I may
remark in passing, was so lengthy, that, had I attempted
to exhaust it, the task would probably have occupied
me to the present day. Indeed, I think I may say,
basing the statement on my long subsequent ac-
quaintance with the Serjeant, that it is more than
doubtful whether he himself ever read all the books
that he thus brought under my notice.

Serjeant Parry's next recommendation was a more

I BECOME MR. HOLI/S PUPIL. 69

practical one. It was that I should enter the chambers
of some barrister who was a good pleader, and in large
junior civil business. He suggested two suitable persons,
Mr. Holl and Mr. Macnamara, who jointly occupied the
ground floor of No. 5, Paper Buildings, and to each of
whom he gave me a letter of introduction. I first saw
Mr. Macnamara. Being full of pupils, he referred me
to Mr. Holl, kindly stating, however, that I might have
the run of his chambers. Macnamara, who was the
brother of the celebrated Mrs. Nesbit, afterwards
became a Kailway Commissioner, and has since died.
I arranged to become the pupil of Mr. Holl for twelve
months, savins; him an honorarium of one hundred

7 O O

guineas, to obtain which sum I had to pinch myself
not a little.

There was a vacant room on the basement when I
joined Holl's chambers, and this was subsequently
occupied by Mr. Butterworth, one of the ablest pleaders
of the day, and, after Chitty and Bullen, I suppose one
of the most successful.

There was plenty to engage the attention of a
student, if he were only industrious. For my part,
I was resolved that my hundred guineas should not
be thrown away ; and I believe I may say that I
was always the first to arrive at the chambers in the
morning, and the last to go away at night.

My inclinations had always been towards criminal
work ; and when I grew tired of poring over pleas
and dry opinions, it was my invariable custom, wrhen

70 MY CALL TO THE BAR.

the Sessions were on, to repair to the Central Criminal
Court — otherwise known as the Old Bailey — where I
sat listening intently to the trials. I resolved at the
time that, when I was called to the Bar, I would
devote myself in a great measure, if not exclusively,
to criminal business. I used occasionally to drop in
at the Middlesex Sessions, where I found many of
the barristers to whom I listened at the Old Bailey.
Mr. (afterwards Sir) William Bodkin was the presiding
Judge at the Sessions House ; the Deputy- Assistant
Judge, who sat in the Second Court, being Mr. Tom
Pain.

The time of my apprenticeship being up, I was
duly called to the Bar. Frank Burnand preceded me
by three months, and was .attending at the Old Bailey
when I joined it. I don't think he remained there
more than a year, however. After mature delibera-
tion, he resolved to leave the law, and devote himself
entirely to literature.

I was called on the 30th day of April, 1862, and
at once commenced to attend the Central and other
Criminal Courts of the metropolis. Holl, with whom
I had remained up to the time of my call, kindly
permitted me to continue in his chambers until I
should feel my feet.

For one or two Sessions I hung about the Courts
doing nothing, waiting for that knock and inquiry at the
chambers' door for which so many have, with aching
hearts, waited for years, and, alas ! waited in vain.

THE FIRST BRIEF. 71

It so happened, about three months after I became
a barrister, that Charles Voules (who, as I have already
mentioned, was a solicitor at Windsor) had a prose-
cution against a man for stealing a horse in the
neighbourhood of Staines — a district that lay within
the jurisdiction of the Central Criminal Court. Feeling

•J

a friendly interest in me as an old Etonian, and being
anxious to give me my first brief, he placed this
prosecution in my hands.

How proud and delighted I felt at first ! But
when the Session came on, and the day of trial arrived

nf

— after I Lad carefully scored under each sentence
of the brief, and, in fact, learnt off every word of
it by heart — a kind of stage-fright seized me, and I
went to everybody, begging that they would take
the responsibility off my hands. Nobody would
relieve me of the brief, however, and there was I
left with my bottle-imp !

In due time the prisoner entered the dock, and
pleaded "Not Guilty." Then, just as the trial was
about to commence, I learnt, for the first time, that
the prisoner was to be defended by Mr. Kibtou, who,
though an excellent fellow in his way, was not exactly
the sort of person a youngster would like to meet as
his first opponent. I shall never forget that trial.
When I looked at the jury they seemed to dance
before my eyes, and instead of twelve men I seemed
to see about four times that number. The presiding
Judge was the then Recorder of London, Mr. (afterwards

72 FAILURE AND DESPAIR.

the Eight Hon.) Eussell Gurney. I shall have a good
deal to say about him before long, but suffice it for
the present to remark in passing that, as my subsequent
observation and experience proved, he was the very
best criminal Judge that ever sat upon the bench.

The case was a weak one against the prisoner, I
am bound to admit; but I think if it had been
ever so strong, I should have made a mess of it. I
floundered through my opening, I called my witnesses,
and Mr. Eibton proceeded to address the jury for
the defence. Then the Judge summed up, and the
jury, without a moment's hesitation, pronounced a
verdict of "Not Guilty." In my agony, thinking
that a great miscarriage of justice had taken place
on account of my stupidity, I jumped up, and, Heaven
knows why, exclaimed :

" My lord, what's to become of the horse ? "
Looking at me somewhat severely, the Judge said :
" What is that to do with you, sir ? Don't you
think you've done enough ? "

I'm sure he did not mean what I thought he meant ;
but I left the Court almost broken-hearted. Rushing

o

home to my wife, at Gunter Grove, Fulham, where
we were living at the time, I utterly collapsed, and
cried out :

"My dear, I shall never go into Court again. I've
mistaken my profession. I must try something else."

It was very easy to talk about trying something
else, but it would have been more difficult to find

SOME LEADING COUNSEL. 73

something else to try ; for had I not already exhausted
every means of making money that suggested itself?
Of course I had spoken on the spur of the moment,
while suffering acute mortification ; and it was not
long before I found my way back to the Old Bailey.

The criminal Bar was a very close borough in those
days, and work was, for the most part, in the hands
of a few. These were Hardino-e-Giffard (now Lord

O V

Halsbur}^), Mr. (afterwards Serjeant) Sleigh, Metcalfe,
Orridge, Poland, Ribton, and John Best. The solicitors
principally associated with the practice were Hum-
phreys and Morgan, Wontner and Son, and Lewis and
Lewis, all of whom divided their business, generally
speaking, among their own particular men. Thus
Hardinge-Giffard and Poland (who afterwards succeeded
Clarke and Besley as counsel to the Treasury at the
Central Criminal Court) acted for the Humphreys ;
Metcalfe and Orridge for the Wontners ; and Serjeants
Ballantine, Parry, and Sleigh for the Lewises. The
last-named firm also availed themselves of the services
of F. H. Lewis, while, in subsequent years, they gave
a great deal of their business to me.

Sleigh was a great public man, and the delight of the
publicans. Probably his licensing business was the
largest ever enjoyed by any counsel.

The solicitors who did the lion's share of the work
were Lewis and Lewis. Their office was in Ely Place,
where Mr. George Lewis, the sole survivor of the firm,
carries on his business to this day.

74 MESSRS. LEWIS AND LEWIS.

The character of the place has greatly changed. It
used to be a very dirty, dull, and depressing place,
where only a few clerks were to be seen. I remember,
when the firm were acting for The Daily Telegraph,
hearing poor Lionel Lawson describe a visit he paid
there.

" I was shown into a back room," he said, " where I
was kept waiting for about half an hour. It was for all
the world like a prison cell, and when I had been there
ten minutes, I felt convinced that I was a felon of some
description, and before I left I was perfectly certain that
I had committed every crime known to the criminal
law."

Little James Lewis, the head of the firm, was a very
sharp-looking fellow. He attended principally to the
criminal classes indoors. George Lewis, who was a very
smart young man, and a most successful cross-examiner,
did the principal business at the Police Courts. Old
" Uncle George," the brother of the senior partner,
looked after the insolvency, bankruptcy, dramatic, and
civil business, in a room at the top of the house. In
those days, there was an enormous quantity of insolvency
and bankruptcy cases, and I should be sorry to say how
many impecunious upper and middle class men were
duly whitewashed through the intervention of " Uncle
George." His counsel in this work was usually Mr,
(afterwards Serjeant) Sargood. " Uncle George " was
solicitor to the Dramatic Authors' Society, and nearly all
the dramatic business of London was in his hands.

ADVERSITY V. PROSPERITY. 75

Kind-hearted and generous, no one, however poor, ever
applied to him for advice in vain.

James Lewis lived in Euston Square, and ' Uncle
George" in Woburn Place. Though they were daily
brought into contact with the black side of human

o

nature, I never met two more pleasant and simple-
minded men. In later years, I always dined at the
old gentleman's house on his birthday, and enjoyed
the privilege of proposing his health. He was one
of my best friends, and to him I owe a great deal of
whatever success I have attained.

So far as I have observed, adversity is a remarkably
easy thing to bear, and prosperity about as difficult.
Very few of those I have known have been improved
by the latter ; but I am about to draw attention to
a noticeable exception to the rule in the person of
the present Lord Chancellor, Lord Halsbury.

At the time I commenced to practise, I remember
Bob Orridffe making a bet with Metcalfe, I think for

O O

ten pounds, that, within twelve years, Hardinge-Giffard
-then one of our leaders at the Central Criminal Court
and the Middlesex Sessions — would become Attorney-
General, and that, before he ended his career, he would
become Lord Chancellor. Both those anticipations have
been fulfilled, though poor Bob did not live to reap
the fruits of his prophecy. Hardinge-GifTard became
Solicitor-General, then Attorney-General, and he is now
Lord High Chancellor, keeper of the Queen's conscience.
Lord Halsbury by rank, he is still Hardiuge-Giffard by

76 HARDINGE-GIFFARD.

nature, and this consideration will encourage me, by-
and-by, to relate certain anecdotes of him dating from
the time when we fought together in the arena of
criminal practice, he on the side of the Crown, and I,
acting as a free lance, for the defence.

o *

CHAPTER VII.

RARO ANTBCBDENTEM SCELESTUM
DESERUIT PEDE PCENA CLAUDO.

The extent of my practice — The case of Catherine Wilson — A
description of her crimes — Our defence — What the Judge said —
Statement by the Lincoln police officer — The verdict — The accused
rearrested — A fresh trial — Bodies of the victims exhumed— Some
pointed observations from the bench — "Guilty" — Mr. Justice
Byles — His lordship's comments in private — Anecdote of Mr. F.
— Mr. Arthur Collins and the point that was overlooked — A
painful case — The subscription we started — My first introduction
to Messrs. Lewis and Lewis — Eeminiscences of Ballantine — An
embarrassing position — Kibton's verbosity — I act as Ballantine's
junior in a gross case of fraud — His advice about fees — The little
Jewish solicitor.

I THINK I may safely say that I have defended more
prisoners than any other living man. My practice
extended from 1862 to 1886.

One of the first important cases with which I was
associated was that of Catherine Wilson. She was
charged before Baron Bramwell with administering one
ounce of sulphuric acid to Sarah Carnell, with intent
to murder her. She was defended by Mr. Oppenhein
and myself, though, as my leader was engaged in

78 THE CHARGE AND THE DEFENCE.

another Court during the trial, the work really devolved
solely upon nie. Ribton appeared for the prosecution.

The prisoner was a nurse, and in that capacity had
attended the prosecutrix. One day, she had volun-
teered to fetch some medicine for the invalid, who
was in bed, and after an absence of about twenty
minutes had returned with something that she described
as a soothing draught. The unfortunate woman, in
her evidence, said she saw nothing at the bottom of
the glass into which the prisoner poured the liquid.
While she was holding it, however, she felt it grow
warm in her hand. The prisoner said :

"Drink it down, love; it will warm you."

The witness took a mouthful, but it was so hot
that she at once spat it out upon the bed-clothes.
Then she called her husband, and said to him :

"William, take this medicine back to the doctor.
He has sent me the wrong one."

Upon looking down at the bed-clothes, the invalid
saw that, where the liquid had fallen, the counterpane
was full of burnt holes.

The defence was the usual one ; that the doctor was
out when the prisoner called, and that the lad of fifteen
in temporary charge had given the wrong medicine.
Baron Bramwell, in his remarkably shrewd, plain-
speaking way, in summing up, pointed out that the
theory of the defence was an untenable one, as, had
the bottle contained the poison when the prisoner
received it, it would have become red-hot or would

AN ASTONISHING COMMUNICATION. - (J

have burst, before she arrived at the invalid's bedside.
However, there is no accounting for juries ; and, at
the end of the Judge's summing-up, to the astonish-
ment probably of almost everybody in Court, the
foreman asked leave to retire.

It was rather late — I think about seven in the
evening — when the jury left their box. As I sat in
Court, waiting anxiously for the verdict, a stranger
came up to me, and, placing his hand on my gown,
said :

" Very ingenious, sir, but if you succeed in getting
that woman off, you will do her the worst turn any
one ever did her."

Considerably astonished, I turned round and closely
questioned the speaker. I learnt that he was a
member of the Lincoln police force, and that he
had instructions, if the prisoner were acquitted, to
take her into custody on seven separate charges of
wilful murder. If she were convicted (when, of course,
she would be sentenced to penal servitude, either for
life or a considerable number of years), the authorities,
it appeared, had determined to take no further action.

At about a quarter to nine the jury returned,
and, upon Mr. Avory, the well-known Clerk of
Arraigns, asking if they had agreed upon a verdict,
the foreman pronounced one of " Not Guilty."

An expression of delight came upon the face of
the woman, whose appearance, by-the-bye, was a very
peculiar one, her chin being the most receding one I

80 THE SECOND TEIAL.

have ever seen. She turned round abruptly to leave
the dock, but the instant her foot was on the floor
of the Court, she was arrested by the officer who
had recently addressed me.

On Thursday, the 25th September, in the same
year — 1862 — Catherine Wilson was tried for the
murder of Maria Soames, the case coming before
Mr. Justice Byles. Messrs. Clarke and Besley, who
then represented the Treasury, appeared for the pro-
secution, and I appeared for the defence.

The murder was alleged to have been committed in
October, 1856. It appeared that the prisoner had
acted as nurse during an illness of the deceased, giving
her her medicine, and generally administering to her
wants. In the course of the case it transpired that
six or seven persons with whom the prisoner had
lived as nurse, and who, strangely enough, had nearly
all of them been suffering from gout, had suddenly
died. As the charge had reference to the murder of
a particular person, however, detailed evidence in the
other cases was not admitted. The medical man, on
beino- called, stated that he had refused a certificate

O *

in the case of Maria Soames, though, on making a
post mortem examination, he was disposed to attribute
death to natural causes. Owing to the facts that had
transpired, however, he was now prepared to attribute
death to an over-dose of colchicurn, or some other
vegetable irritant poison.

To cut a long story short, I may say that it was

A DEADLY SUMMING-UP. 81

proved, in this and the other cases, that the prisoner
had so ingratiated herself with her patients as to induce
them either to leave hei considerable sums of money
in their wills, or to make her handsome gifts in their
lifetime, and that, so soon as she had accomplished
this object, she quickly despatched them.

She was anxious, it would seem, that no inquiries
should be made as to the reason for the gifts and
legacies.

After the first trial, the bodies of the victims were
exhumed, with the result that traces of the poison
were discovered. I based my defence on the sup-
position (then entertained in the scientific world, but
since proved to be false) that it was impossible to
detect the presence of vegetable poison in the blood
after a short time had elapsed. On this vital point,
the principal witness examined was the celebrated
Dr. Alfred Swayne Taylor, Professor of Medical Juris-
prudence at Guy's.

I shall never forget the Judge's summing-up, the
concluding words of which were about as deadly as any-
thing of the kind I have ever heard.

" Gentlemen, if such a state of things as this were
allowed to exist," he said, " no living person could sit
down to a meal in safety." This, too, when the jury
were about to take their luncheon !

After due consideration a verdict of " Guilty " was
returned ; the other indictments were not proceeded
with, and the prisoner was sentenced to death.

VOL. I. G

82 THE JUDGE'S COMMENTS IN PRIVATE.

Mr. Justice Byles, when at the Bar, had been one of
the most acute advocates of the day. He knew his
juries thoroughly well, never went too far with them,
and got his verdicts almost as he liked.

After the trial to which I have just referred, Mr.
Justice Byles sent to ask me to come and see him in his
private room. I found him unrobing, and walking up
and down like a lion in its cao;e. He said :

O

" I sent for you to tell you that you did that case
remarkably well. But it was no good ; the facts were
too strong. I prosecuted Rush for the murder of Mr.
Jermy, I defended Daniel Good, and I defended several
other notable criminals when I was on the Norfolk
Circuit ; but, if it will be of any satisfaction to you, I
may tell you that in my opinion you have to-day

defended the greatest criminal that ever lived."

Many anecdotes are related of this most excellent
Judge. He was once hearing a case in which a woman
was charged with causing the death of her child by not
giving it proper food or treating it with the necessary

care. Mr. F , of the Western Circuit, conducted the

defence, and while addressing the jury said :

" Gentlemen, it appears to be impossible that the
prisoner can have committed this crime. A mother
guilty of such conduct to her own child ! Why, it is
repugnant to our better feelings ; " and then, being
carried away by his own eloquence, he proceeded :
" Gentlemen, the beasts of the field, the birds of the air
suckle their young, and -"

A PAINFUL CASE. 83

But at this point the learned Judge interrupted him,
and said :

"Mr. F , if you establish the latter part of

your proposition, your client will be acquitted to a
certainty."

On another occasion, while Mr. Justice Byles was
summing-up at the Central Criminal Court, my learned
friend, Arthur Collins, interposing, said :

" My lord, you have missed so-and-so " (mentioning
some fact that the Judge had not put to the jury).

" Have I, Mr. Collins ? " said his lordship, with a
peculiar twinkle in his eye. " Well, I will put it if
you like, but remember, it is a two-edged sword. Shall
I put it, Mr. Collins ? "

" Oh, no, thank you, my lord," said Collins, hur-
riedly, as he promptly resumed his seat.

The next case of importance in which I figured
occurred in the same year. It was characterised by some-
what peculiar circumstances. I belonged to a Dining
Club, the members of which used to meet at 5.30 p.m.
every Saturday at the Cafe de 1'Europe. It was
called the " Caffres," and among the members were
Keeley, Buckstone, Albert Smith, Benjamin Webster,
and Mark Lemon. The " Caffre " chief was a gentle-
man named Watkins, the principal partner in the firm
of Morden and Co. A Mr. Wild was the proprietor
of the cafe, his predecessor having been a person

named H s, who had failed. When the crash came,

his two daughters — the eldest of whom, Floretta, was

G 2

84 OUR DEFENCE FUND.

about nineteen, and her sister some twelve months
younger — had, with a view to gain their own liveli-
hood, gone upon the stage. Floretta had been playing
somewhere in the North, and during her engagement
had been seduced by the manager of the theatre, who
was a married man. Abandoned and left destitute,
she had come up to London and taken refuge in a
garret in Soho, where the child was born. Its dead
body was subsequently found under somewhat peculiar
circumstances, and the unfortunate woman was arrested,
and charged with the murder. The matter got into
the newspapers, and was discussed by us at one of
the club dinners. We had all known the girl, and
had always found her most quiet, well-behaved, and
lady-like. We were very sorry that this trouble had
fallen upon her, and, with a view to have her properly
defended, we started a subscription list on her behalf,
and raised a considerable sum of money. Watkins
asked me to mention the name of a good criminal
lawyer with whom to entrust the girl's defence. I
referred him to Mr. James Lewis, for it was my honest
opinion that he would be the best man for the work ;
and this, I may mention in passing, was practically my
first introduction to the firm.

Watkins went to Ely Place, saw Mr. Lewis, and
suggested that I should conduct the defence. The
reply was: "You will really be doing him a bad
turn by putting the matter in his hands. You see,
he has noc long been at the Bar, and this is a case

MY SPEECH. 85

that requires a good deal of experience and very
delicate handling. If, as you seem to suggest, there
is no absolute lack of means, I should advise you
to have Serjeant Ballantine. I will see Mr. Montagu
Williams and explain the matter to him, and I am
quite sure that, when I do so, he will see it in the
same light as I do. He shall be junior."

Mr. Lewis saw me, as arranged, and as I eagerly
agreed to some one else bearing the burden of this
exceedingly painful case, the Serjeant was duly
instructed. He put in an appearance at the trial,
but, as my luck would have it, in the middle of
the case he was called away to AVestminster, there
to argue some most important matter which he could
not possibly neglect.

I need hardly say that, when I came to address
the jury, everything was in my favour — a weeping
woman, barely twenty years of age, in the dock ;
the terrible story of her seduction ; the agony,
physical and mental, she must have endured in her
time of travail, with no living soul by to assist and
comfort her. This, as will readily be understood, was
material that was not very difficult to handle. Of course
the principal part of my defence was an attack upon
the man who had so wronged her, and I remember that
in concluding my speech I quoted the following lines :

0 Heaven ! that such companions thou'dst unfold,

And put in every honest hand a whip

To lash the rascals naked through the world.

86 CHARACTER OF SERJEANT BALLANTINE.

My client was acquitted, and from that moment I
think my fortune was fairly safe. This was my first
real introduction to Serjeant Ballantine, and during the
remainder of his career at the Bar, whenever he had a
criminal case of importance, I was nearly always his junior.

The Serjeant was a very extraordinary man. He
was the best cross-examiner of his kind that I have
ever heard, and the quickest at swallowing facts. It
was not necessary for him to read his brief ; he had
a marvellous faculty for picking up a case as it went
along, or learning all the essentials in a hurried colloquy
with his junior. There is no point that the Serjeant
might not have attained in his profession, had he only
possessed more ballast. He was, however, utterly
reckless, generous to a fault, and heedless of the future.
His opinion of men could never be relied upon, for he
praised or blamed them from day to day, just as they
happened to please or annoy him. He often said bitter
things, but never, I think, ill-naturedly. His fault
was probably that he did not give himself time to
think before he spoke.

Ballantine's manner of addressing a jury was some-
what drawling and hesitating. Nevertheless it was a
manner that possessed a considerable charm, and he had
a way of introducing jokes and anecdotes into his speech
that was very effective. He was a great verdict-getter,
sometimes being successful in the most desperate cases.
He never funked what we lawyers call a " dead " case,
and was always cheery and bright.

AN EMBAERASSING POSITION. 87

Between the Sessions, when there was no Police
Court work to do, I used to go down to Westminster,
where I managed to get a little civil business. One
clay, shortly after the trial of Floretta H- -s, I was in
the Court of Queen's Bench, which was sitting in banco,
and presided over by Lord Chief Justice Cockburn,
assisted by Mr. Justice Wightman' and Mr. Justice
Crompton. Serjeant Ballan tine's clerk, Worster (who
had held the appointment Heaven knows how many
years), came up and asked me whether, as his chief was
absent, I would watch a case that was about to be
argued. He explained that, as the Serjeant's junior,
J. 0. Griffiths, was in the building, and would shortly
put in an appearance, all that it would be necessary
for me to do would be to take a note of what was going
on. As a matter of fact, I had never argued a case in
the Civil Court in banco in my life, though, of course,
this was no reason why I should not make myself useful
in the manner suggested. To my horror, however,
several other cases having broken down, ours was called
on prematurely, and a considerable time before Mr.
Griffiths was likely to arrive. The other side had to
begin, and Serjeant Parry, who was opposed to us,
got up to open his speech. I rose, too, anc!, addressing
the Bench, said : " My lords, I hope you won't take
this case yet. Serjeant Ballantine is on this side, and
Mr. J. 0. Griffiths. Neither of them is here, and
I know nothing of the case, as I was not in it at the
trial. I only came here to take a note."

88 EIBTON'S VERBOSITY.

Good-natured Justice Wightman (he was, indeed,
one of the pleasantest and most kind-hearted men that
ever lived), looking at me indulgently, said : " Oh, you
only came here to take a note, did you ? ' Then he
turned to Cockburn, and I overheard him say : " He's
very young, and I don't think we ought to press him ; "
whereupon the case was adjourned, and I was released
from my most embarrassing position.

On one occasion, in an action for false imprisonment,
heard before Mr. Justice Wightman, Eibton was ad-
dressing the jury at great length, repeating himself
constantly, and never giving the slightest sign of
winding up. When he had been pounding away for
several hours, the good old Judge interposed, and said :
"Mr. Ribton, you've said that before." "Have I, my
lord?" said Eibton ; " I'm very sorry. I quite forgot it."
"Don't apologise, Mr. Ribton," was the answer. "I
forgive you ; for it was a very long time ago."

I remember a civil action, brought upon a bill of
exchange, in which I was Serjeant Ballan tine's junior.
We appeared for the defence, and were instructed by a
little Jewish solicitor named K— -h. The consultation
took place at No. 1, Paper Buildings, and at its con-
clusion the solicitor withdrew to arrange pecuniary
matters with Worster in an adjoining room. I stood,
somewhat depressed, by the window, looking out into
the Temple Gardens. " You seem rather out of sorts,"
said the Serjeant, "what's the matter?" "Well," said
I, " I was thinking what I should do if you don't turn

BALLANTINE'S ADVICE ABOUT FEES. 89

up at this trial to-morrow. I suppose you know it's to
be in the paper. It's the most fraudulent case I believe
you were ever in in your life, and Fin quite sure of one
thing, if I'm left to do it, I shan't escape with my wig
and gown. I suppose you've a lot of special juries, and
you won't attend to this. It's of no use your handing
over your brief to somebody else. If anybody else
undertakes it he is sure to repent and withdraw the
instant he has read the brief, and I should then be left
entirely alone. Sooner than this should be, I'd rather
almost return the brief and the fee." "Don't dream
of that," said the Serjeant, "never return anything
at the Bar — I never do ; and as for your not being-
able to do it, rubbish ! you can do it right enough if
I'm not there. But don't worry yourself, I'm not very
busy to-morrow, and I promise you you shan't be called
upon."

The next morning arrived, and the case, which was
about the third on the list, was to come on in the
Little Queen's Bench, a small Court at the end of the
Guildhall, somewhat resembling a cucumber frame.
The Judge was Mr. Justice Crompton, familiarly known
as Charlie. The learned Serjeant was busily engaged in
the large Court opposite, presided over by Chief Baron
Pollock. I sent for Worster, who informed me that my
leader was just finishing his address to the jury, that he
would be with me in a little while, and that in the
meantime I was to go on. The pleadings having been
opened, Huddleston, who was for the plaintiff, began

90 UP-HILL WORK.

his speech, the Jewish solicitor, sitting in the well of
the Court, looking wistfully at the door for the arrival
of my chief. At length the Serjeant rushed in — his wig
on the back of his head, and his silk gown well down
over his shoulders — and took his seat in the front row.
Our opponent was, at this moment, characterising our
case as the very reverse of honest, alleging fraud and
every other enormity, and impressing upon the common
jury (and a very common jury it was) that our client,
if he made his appearance in any Court, certainly should
not make that appearance in a civil one. The Serjeant
was never in better form, and, during his speech, fired
off a number of small jokes, much to the delight of the
jury. I have noticed, indeed, that juries, in a Court of
law, as also the ushers, are always convulsed with
laughter on the smallest possible provocation. We
were, in a word, getting on swimmingly with everybody
but the Judge, who, ignoring the Serjeant's fun, was
jotting down in his book some shorthand notes of what
he intended to say in his summing-up. At length the
evidence and speeches came to an end, and his lordship
addressed the jury. He demolished us in a very few
sentences, and concluded by painting our client in even
blacker colours than had been employed by the counsel
for the plaintiff. AVhen he concluded his address it did
not really seem that the jury had much to consider;
but, to the astonishment of everybody, the foreman
asked leave for them to retire. As the usher was
swearing them in, the little Jewish solicitor, with a face

ANECDOTES ABOUT A JEW.

beaming with smiles, and with his eyes turned towards
the jury-box, said :

" Serjeant, upon my soul I think we shall get a
verdict."

To which the reply was :

" How, sir, do you think that I, or anybody else,
can get a verdict if you flash your infernal Israelitish
countenance before the jury in that way?" Not in the
least abashed or offended, the little man roared with
laughter and exclaimed :

o

"Capital, Serjeant, capital! You must have your
little joke."

On another occasion Ballantine was acting in a case
with the same solicitor, and it happened that one of the
hostile witnesses also belonged to the Jewish race.

Just as the Serjeant was about to examine him, K h

whispered in his ear :

"Ask him, as your first question, if he isn't a Jew."

" AYhy, but you're a Jew yourself," said Ballantine,
in some surprise.

"Never mind, never mind," replied the little
solicitor, eagerly. "Please do — just to prejudice the

CHAPTER VIII.

NEMO MB IMPUXE LACESSIT.

Serjeant Ballantine'a weekly custom — A case of fraud — What
Ballantine said to the parson — Jews like the Serjeant ; but the
Serjeant doesn't like Jews — A remarkable piece of cross-exami-
nation— " I am his cussed old father " — Ballantine's conduct
towards Clarkson — Sparring between the Serjeant and Huddleston.

—Miss Lydia Thompson's action against Miss Marie Wilton—
The comment of a rising young barrister — I desire to join the
Oxford Circuit — My father's peculiar objections — I join the
Home Circuit — The giants of those days—My first Circuit town

—Serjeant Shee's kindness — Mr. Kussell Gurney, Sir Thomas
Chambers, and Mr. Commissioner Kerr — An instance of great
fairness.

AT the Central Criminal Court one Monday, the
Eecorder took two cases in which Ballantine and I
appeared — he as leader, and I as junior — and which
had been held over from the previous session. It
was the Serjeant's custom, during the summer, to
stay over the Sunday at the " Star and Garter," at
Richmond, coming up to town by an early train on
Monday morning. On this particular morning, he
did not arrive in Court until the cases were about
to come on. Turning to me, he said :

AN INTERRUPTED COLLOQUY. 93

" For goodness' sake, my dear Montagu, while the
jury is being got together and the pleas are taken,
tell me something of these infernal cases. I haven't
the remotest idea what they are about. I read my
briefs last session ; but in the interval, what with one
thing and another, I have entirely forgotten all about
them."

One of the two cases was a charge of fraud against
the manager of a Northern bank. It had been removed
from Leeds to the Central Criminal Court, under an
Act of Parliament known as Palmer's Act — Palmer
being the name of a man who was charged with
murder, and whose trial was removed from Stafford
to London. The case had created a considerable
interest in the locality where the accused resided,
and the Court was densely crowded, principally by
gentlemen who had travelled up to town to give
the prisoner a good character, among the number
being (to judge by their dress) several High Church
clergymen. While I was busily engaged cramming
the Serjeant with the facts of the case, he gave me
his undivided attention, completely ignoring every-
thing that was going on around him. As I was
pouring information as rapidly as I could into his
ear, two gentlemen wearing the white ties, queerly-
cut waistcoats, and long frock-coats peculiar to the
clergy, came up and touched him on the arm.

" Go on," said he to me, taking no other notice
of the interruption.

94 BALLANTINE AND THE CLERGYMAN.

In a minute or two they pulled at his silk gown ;
but still he paid no heed to their presence. A little
later — they having, it must be admitted, shown con-
siderable patience — one of them remarked :

" I beg your pardon. Have I not the honour
of addressing Serjeant Ballantine ? "

The answer was : " Yes ; but can't you see that
I am busily engaged and cannot possibly attend to
you ? " and he turned to me with an impetuous gesture,
and told me to proceed.

After waiting in silence for several minutes, with
truly Christian resignation, the two gentlemen mildly
returned to the attack.

" We won't detain you a minute, Serjeant," said
the spokesman ; " we only want to ask one question."

" Well, sir," said Ballantine, impatiently, " and
what is it ? >:

" We only wanted to know," the clergyman ex-
plained, " whether they are going to put our dear

friend, Mr. " (mentioning the name of the

prisoner), "into that dreadful dock?"

" Why not?" was the Serjeant's retort. " I can tell you
it'll take me a d lot of trouble to get him out of it."

I shall never forget the horror that was depicted
upon the faces of the clergymen, as, with an expressive
"Oh!" they shrank back into the crowd.

As may be gathered from certain anecdotes
told in the last chapter, the Serjeant had any-
thing but a proclivity for men of Eastern origin.

PROMPTING THE SEUJEANT. 95

Nevertheless they were very fond of him, and eagerly
sought his services. I was his junior in a rather
remarkable case in which some Hebrews figured
conspicuously. In the course of the trial a very im-
portant witness entered the box, and was duly sworn
on the Old Testament with his hat on. A good deal
depended on this witness, for unless we could shake
his credit, it was likely to go hard with the prisoner.
The Serjeant cross-examined him, but with little result,
and at last, giving the matter up as a bad job, he
was about to resume his seat. It happened that
Ballantine had taken up his position at the extreme
end of the counsel's bench, close to the gangway, and
by his side stood a man whose prominent nasal organ
was an eloquent testimony to his origin. As soon as
this individual perceived that my leader was about to
close his cross-examination, he whispered eagerly:
" You are not properly instructed. You don't know
the man; I know all about him. Ask him, Serjeant
— ask him if he ever had a' fire."

Quick as lightning Ballantine took the hint.
Addressing the witness, he said: "I think that on one
occasion you were unfortunate enough to have a fire ? "

"Yes," said the witness.

(" That's right," said my leader's prompter. " Claim
against insurance — arson — Borough Koad.")

" I think you lived in the Borough Road ? " said
the Serjeant.

" Yes," was the reply.

SOME LEADING QUESTIONS.

" Insured ? "
"Yes."

:c Company were wicked enough to dispute your
claim ? "

" Yes."

" And to insist that the fire was not quite the
result of accident ? "

"Yes."

" Well, to put the matter plainly, you were tried
for arson ? "

"Yes."

" Convicted ? "

"Yes."

"Penal servitude ? ';

"Yes."

With a smile of triumph, and a look at the jury,
Ballantine was again about to resume his seat.

(" Not at all — not half," whispered the prompter.
" Watch robbery — Bow Street.")

" Do you know Bow Street 1 " drawled the Serjeant,
ao-ain addressing the unfortunate witness.

O C5

" Of course I do ; of course I know Bow Street,"
answered the man, assuming somewhat of a less sheepish
demeanour.

" I mean Bow Street Police Court," said Ballantine ;
" ever been there ? '

"Yes," was the reply.

" Another unfortunate circumstance in your some-
what varied life — watch robbery ? ':

WHO THE PROMPTER WAS. 97

" Yes."

" Unfortunate again ? '

" I don't understand what you mean."

" Yes you do — convicted ? '

"Yes."

Again the Serjeant was about to sit down, but
the man at his elbow said :

" Stay a minute, sir, stay a minute. Fraudulent
bankruptcy."

Ballantine, who thought he had extracted about
enough from the witness, replied :

" Oh, that's a mere trifle."

"Never mind; ask him, Serjeant, ask him," was
the retort.

The Serjeant then put the necessary question. The
witness, becoming on a sudden virtuously indignant,
replied :

" Never ! upon my oath — never, I swear it ! "

Ballantine, turning round to his prompter, said :

""What do you mean, sir, by giving me false
information ? '

"It's true, Serjeant, it's true," the man responded,
eagerly. " I swear it, and / ought to know. I'm
his cussed old father."

One day Ballantine told me that when he first
began to practise at the Central Criminal Court, there
was a good deal of competition among the counsel
there. Bodkin, Alley, Phillips, and Clarkson were
among the principal men there at the time. "The

VOL. I. H

98 t A PASSAGE OF ARMS.

man I feared most," said Ballantine, " and, in fact,
the man most in my line, was Clarksou, and it soon
became apparent that either he or I must go to the
wall. I infinitely preferred that it should be he, and
so I devoted my whole life to worrying him. I drove
him first to sedative pills, and finally to carbuncles —
and he died/'

It happened on one occasion that the Serjeant was
discussing, with three or four other men, the character
of a certain leader, the remarks made beino; not all

7 O

of a complimentary nature. Somebody, interposing,
said :

" Well, there's one thing, my dear Ballantine, that
there's no denying — he never speaks ill of any man."

" No ; of course not," wras the Serjeant's rejoinder ;
" for he never talks of any one but himself."

In his early career, Ballantine was a great friend of
Mr. (now Baron) Hudclleston ; but as time went on,
and the two became, to a certain degree, professional
rivals, the intimacy somewhat cooled. At the time
when they were both in large leading business, a rather
lively encounter took place between them in a case at
Westminster Hall, in which they appeared as opposing
counsel. Huddleston, in the course of his remarks, said :

" My learned friend, Serjeant Ballantine, while he
was making his speech, reminded me of the ostrich who
buried his beak in the sand and imagined that nobody
could see his tail."

When it came to Ballantine's turn to reply, he, after

A THEATRICAL ACTION". 99

commenting upon the merits of the case, referred to the
remarks of his adversary, saying :

"My learned friend, Mr. Huddleston, has been
busying himself a good deal about me, and I can't help
thinking that in doing so he has wasted both time and
abuse. I feel very like the bargee, who, when asked
why he allowed his wife to thrash him, replied : ' It
pleases she, and it don't hurt me.' My learned friend,
however, on the present occasion has gone farther. He
has lectured me and endeavoured to teach me what my
conduct ought to be in the future. AVell, I'm very
much obliged to him. He has also indulged in similes.

o o

He compares me to the ostrich who hides his beak in
the sand and imagines that nobody can see his tail. It
does not surprise me in the least that he should make
use of that simile. I should say that he, above all men,
ought to understand it, as the part he alludes to, if it
were in the human frame, is the part that is most
likely to catch the schoolmaster's eye."

In earlv life, Huddleston had been a tutor.

i>

The Serjeant was a very great favourite with
members of the theatrical profession, and, when he was
in the zenith of his fame, there was scarcely ever a
theatrical case heard without his being engaged on one
side or the other.

There was an action brought by Miss Lydia Thomp-
son against Miss Marie Wilton (now Mrs. Bancroft),
for breach of engagement. It was before a special
jury, and the case was tried by Sir "William Bovill,

H 2

100 " BEAUTY VERSUS BRAINS.'1

then Chief Justice of the Common Pleas. Huddleston
and I were counsel for Miss Thompson, while Ballan-
tine and Lumley Smith represented Marie Wilton.
The Court was crowded.

Miss Thompson told her story, and it was then
suggested, the plaintiff and the defendant having been
intimate friends, that a compromise should be come
to. To this end, Huddleston and Ballantine accord-
ingly put their heads together, and in a little while
they had agreed upon the terms of a settlement.
Neither of the parties to the case had been consulted,
however, and when Ballantine brought the matter under
the notice of Miss Wilton, that lady exclaimed :

" Not at all ; I won't compromise the matter. She "
(alluding to Miss Thompson) " has had the best of it
at present. She has been examined, and has told her
story ; but I've not played my part yet, and I insist
upon doing so, and being called as a witness."

The trial proceeded, and a better witness than
Miss Wilton I never heard. In the end, the verdict
went against us. Upon one or two counsel expressing
their surprise at the result, a rising young junior, who
had been casting something very like sheep's-eyes at
the defendant, observed :

" Not at all ; it's not in the least surprising. It
has been beauty versus brains, and the result is natural."

After I had been practising for a year or two, it
became necessary for me to choose a circuit. I wrote
a letter to my father stating that, if he had no objec-

I JOIN THE SOUTH-EASTERN CIRCUIT. 101

tion, I should like to join his, the Oxford Circuit. My
father had very extraordinary notions, and was no
nepotist. He wrote back to say that such position
as he had attained in his profession he had attained
by his own merits, and he requested me to follow his
example. He very much disapproved, he said, of a
son hancn.no; on to the skirts of his father's crown ; and

o o o

he strongly recommended me to turn my attention
elsewhere.

I joined the Home, now known as the South-
Eastern Circuit, intending to change to the Oxford as
soon as my father ceased to practise. There were
giants in those days upon the Home Circuit, among
the number being Bovill, Lush, Ballantine, Parry,
Hawkins, Montagu Chambers, and last, but not least,
Serjeant Shee. I am not a laudator temporis acti,
but where could such men now be found ? — and Echo
answers, " Where ? "

I was most fortunate on my first circuit, that is
to say, at my first circuit town, Ghiildford. I had
two briefs, both on the civil side. One was in a
theatrical action, brought against Captain Horton
Rhys, an amateur actor, playing under the name of
Morton Price, and a man of considerable fortune. I
think the cause of action was breach of engagement ;
but I remember that I was instructed by my old friend
Mr. Hale, now a partner in the firm of Jones, Vallings,
and Hale, and I also remember that my leader was
Serjeant Shee. The other case had reference to the

102 SERJEANT SHEE's KINDNESS.

right of putting certain boats on certain waters in
the neighbourhood of Gluildford, and my client was
an old Etonian, whose name I have had occasion more
than once to mention — Mr. Voules, of Windsor. He
determined to have for his case an "Eton team," as
he called it, and his counsel were Mr. (now Sir Richard)
Gath, late Chief Justice of India, and myself. I shall
never forget my consultation with dear old Serjeant
Shee. I knew very little about pleadings, and matters
of that kind, and so the work naturally made me
feel somewhat nervous. On going upstairs to the
consulting room to see Serjeant Shee, whom I already
knew slightly, I had my briefs stuck under my arm,
somewhat ostentatiously I am afraid. The old Serjeant
patted me on the shoulder and said :

" Lots of briefs flowing in, my boy ; delighted
to see it."

When we had taken our seats, and the consultation
had begun, he said, turning to the solicitor who
instructed us :

"Winning case — pleadings all wrong. That young
dog over there smelt it out long ago, as a terrier would
a, rat, I can see — eh, Montagu Williams ? You've
found it out, I can see it by your face."

Heaven knows I was as innocent of finding any-
thing out as the man in the moon. I sniggered feebly ;,
and then the Serjeant proceeded to put into my mouth
the vital blots in the case of our adversary, which he
alone had discovered.

THE CITY JUDGES. 103

That was the way leaders treated their juniors
then. I must leave my successors at the Bar to decide
whether or not things are the same now.

I have already mentioned that the principal Judge
at the Central Criminal Court was the Recorder, Mr.
Russell Gurney, whose successor was the Common
Serjeant, Sir Thomas Chambers. The third City Judge
was Mr. Commissioner Kerr. I have referred to the
eminent qualities of Mr. Russell Gurney, and I may
here give an example of his intense fairness. One day
I appeared before him to defend a burglar, against
whom there were three indictments. Poland prosecuted,
and there were several previous convictions on the
prisoner's record, though these could not, of course,
be put in evidence against him until after conviction.
It is, indeed, an illustration of the extreme fairness of
the English law, that, when a man is being tried, only
evidence bearing upon the particular charge is admitted,
no testimony as to his character being brought before
the jury, unless the issue is expressly raised by himself,
or his counsel. The Recorder, at the trial to which
I am referring, summed up on the merits of the case
with strict fairness, though the sheet of convictions
against the prisoner was lying on the desk in front
of his lordship ; and the jury, after some consideration,
brought in a verdict of "Not Guilty." The Re-
corder at once made the following remark to the
prisoner :

" You are a very fortunate man. I know all about

104 AX EXAMPLE OF FAIENESS.

you — you have been convicted for burglary four times
before."

" My lord," I exclaimed, as soon as I could make
myself heard, "you forget there are two other indict-
ments against the prisoner ! You have acquainted the
jury with his antecedents. How can he be fairly tried
now ? "

The Recorder was horrified, and exclaimed :
" Good gracious ! What have I done ? I had quite
forgotten the other indictments."

o

"Well, my lord," I said, "it isn't fair to try the
prisoner on them now."

"You are quite right," was the reply. "The only
thing I can suggest is that the trial should be post-
poned until the next Session."

"But, my lord," said I, "the jurymen in waiting
have heard all this. Then there are the newspapers ;
how are we to keep the matter out of them ? In
these days of penny papers, who is without his
Telegraph or Standard? It's impossible, in my judg-
ment, that the prisoner can now have a fair trial."

" I quite agree with you," the Eecorder replied ;
" I see it all now." Then, turning to Poland, he added :
" Mr. Poland, it has been all my fault ; but I don't
think you ought to go on with the other charges ; "
and, in the end, a verdict of acquittal was taken upon
all three indictments.

The Common Serjeant, commonly known as Tom
Chambers, is also, as Recorder, an excellent criminal

A CONSIDERATE JUDGE. 105

Judge. His quiet, coaxing way has a wonderful effect
upon juries, and he can generally control their verdicts.
In the latter years of my professional career, that is
to say, in its most laborious stage (and laborious it
was indeed), what should I have done without the
present Eecorder ? He is the kindest of friends to
all who practise before him. To those whose good
fortune makes them stagger daily under the pressure
of work, he is always considerate and obliging. I don't
know for the moment how many years he has been
on the City Bench, but he is to-day as good a Judge
as ever he was, and I am sure that it is the wish of
all who have ever practised before him, that he may
live long to enjoy the position he so worthily occupies.
Of the third Judge, Mr. Commissioner Kerr, I have
little to say. He is a very sharp Scotchman, cultured,
astute, and a good lawyer ; but he is far too eccentric
for any criticism of mine. He never had much
practice at the Bar ; though he edited, with considerable
success, one or two of the principal law text-books.
Upon one occasion a barrister asked Hawkins whether
it was true that the Lord Chancellor was about to make
Mr. Commissioner Kerr a Serjeant. " Impossible ! "
was the reply. " What Judge could call him ' brother
Kerr ' ? "

The officers of the Court were Mr. Avory (the father
of the successful young barrister, Horace Avory), Reed,
Henry Avory, and the young Keeds. Mr. Avory's
assistant was one who is a great friend of mine —

106 MR. AVOEY.

Douglas Straight, the son of Marshall Straight, Avory's
predecessor. Avory himself knew more criminal law
than all the Bench of Judges put together. It was most
amusing to see him when one of the Judges who
came down to the Old Bailey was going a little astray
in his knowledge of the law. The good-natured face
of the Clerk of Arraigns might be seen nervously
twitching, as, taking a huge pinch of snuff, he jumped
up, statute in hand, and put his lordship right. He
was a thoroughly courteous gentleman, and one of
my best friends. I may add that, in my opinion,
the staff of legal officers attached to the Central
Criminal Court in those days was not to be matched
in any other Court in the kingdom.

CHAPTER IX.

SI NOX EURYALUS RUTULOS CECIDISSET IN HOSTES
HYRTACID.E NISO GLORIA NULLA FORET.

The Hatton Garden murder — Pelizzioni charged Avith the crime —
Evidence of the landlord of the " Golden Anchor " — Statement
of the dying man — Witnesses for the defence — Accusations
against Gregorio — The question of the knife — The prisoner
sentenced to death — Excitement among the Italians — A respite
obtained — Interposition of Mr. Negretti— Gregorio traced — He
is tried for the crime — Fresh evidence — Pelizzioni put into the
box — Mr. Negretti's evidence — Gregorio found guilty of man-
slaughter— An unprecedented state of things — Pelizzioni tried
again on a second indictment — He is acquitted and pardoned—
Which one was guilty 1

Ix the month of February, 1865, I was engaged in
what I regard as one of the most remarkable cases
in rny career. This was the Hatton Garden murder,
in connection with which there were three trials. The
first of these came before Baron Martin at the Central
Criminal Court, in the mayoralty of Mr. WarreD
Hale.

Seraphmi Polioni, or Pelizzioni, as he was more
commonly called, was indicted for the wilful murder
of Michael Harrington. There was a second indict-

108 EVIDENCE OF THE LANDLORD.

ment against him, on which he was charged with
wounding, with intent to murder, Alfred Eebbeck.
Messrs. Hardiuge-Giffard and Besley conducted the
prosecution on behalf of the Treasury, and the prisoner
was defended by Messrs. Ribton and F. H. Lewis,
who were instructed by Messrs. Lewis and Lewis. There
were no funds for a third counsel ; but Fred Lewis,
who was an intimate friend of mine, asked me to
assist him, and I did so.

The murder was alleged to have taken place at
the "Golden Anchor" public-house, Great Saffron Hill.
The district was, and is, peopled very largely by
Italians, nearly all the organ - grinders, penny - ice
vendors, etc., of the metropolis residing there. The
first witness for the prosecution was the landlord of
the " Golden Anchor," Frederick Shaw, who deposed
that on Monday evening, the 26th December, at about
six o'clock, the prisoner came to his house in a very
excited condition, and said : " I'll kill you, or any
Englishman like you." There were several Italians in
the tap-room at the time, the witness said, among
the number being a man named Gregorio. The witness
proceeded to say that a row took place in the tap-
room, which he attempted to enter. , He was at first
prevented from doing so, but he at length forced his
way in. He then saw Michael Harrington being taken
into the bar parlour, and he heard that the poor
fellow had been stabbed. Eaising Harrington's shirt,
he discovered a wound, and seeing that the man was

THE ONLY ITALIAN PRESENT. 109

in extremis, lie sent for a constable. Harrington was

* o

then taken to the hospital.

The next witness was Rebbeck, the potman. He-
said that he saw the prisoner leading the way to
the tap-room, whereupon he said to him : "I don't
want any row here." The prisoner then stabbed him
in the ri^ht side. He saw the knife with which the

O

wound was inflicted, but could not say what sort of a
knife it was, or what sort of a blade it had. He had
known the prisoner for four or five years. Pelizzioni
ran at him a second time with the knife and struck
him on the head. He then turned round and saw
Pelizzioni on the top of Harrington. There was no
other Italian at that time in the room. He rushed
at the prisoner to pull him off Harrington, but became
insensible before he could effect his object.

A number of other witnesses were called. A man
named Mellership said that he saw Harrington stabbed,
that the blow was struck by the prisoner, and that no
other Italian was present at the time. Other witnesses
swore that, though several Italians had been previously
present, the only one there when Harrington received
his injury was the man who inflicted it — Pelizzioni.
Some of them further stated that they assisted to
remove the prisoner from the prostrate body of
Harrington. A policeman named Fawel was called,
and deposed to going to the "Golden Anchor," and
taking the prisoner into custody. He said he found
Pelizzioni in a stooping position, held clown by a man

110 STATEMENT OF THE DYING MAN.

named King. Fawel added that, when he arrested
the prisoner, the deceased was lying in a corner of
the room, and that the man he took into custody was
the only Italian present.

The principal police evidence was that of Thomas
Ambrose Potter, an inspector of the G- division. He
gave it as his testimony, inter alia, that he took the
prisoner in a cab to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, where
Harrington was under the care of Dr. Peerless. He
led the prisoner to Harrington's bed, which was entirely
surrounded by a number of persons. Taking hold of
the dying man's hand, he said : " Do you understand
what I am saying to you ? " The answer was, " Yes."
Potter deposed that he then said : "In consequence
of what the doctor tells me, I must inform you that
you have but a short time to live." Harrington
rejoined : " If I am to die, may the Lord have mercy
upon me ; " saying which he seemed to go off into a
doze. Potter said that, with some difficulty, and with
the doctor's assistance, he succeeded in rousing the
dying man, whom he requested to look round and see
if any one he knew were present. Harrington looked
round, and, pointing to the prisoner, said: "That is
the man who did it. God bless him." Potter would
not be positive, on being questioned, whether the
words were " God bless him," or " God forgive him."
Serjeant Baldock, Potter said, was standing by at
the time, writing down what was said, he himself
having to hold up Harrington's head. When the

MEDICAL TESTIMONY. Ill

prisoner was shown what had been written clown, he
said: " I do not understand English writing." Potter
then remarked : " What Harrington has said is that
you did it." The prisoner answered, "Oh!" and that
was all he said.

I must here pause to point out that, up to this
stage, nothing had been said about the knife with
which the deed was done.

Potter was subjected to a very severe cross-
examination by Mr. Ribton, but nothing of any
material importance was elicited from him. The case
for the Crown concluded with the evidence of Dr.
Peerless, the house surgeon at St. Bartholomew's
Hospital, who testified that the deceased was brought
there on the night of the 26th of December, at
about seven o'clock. There was, the witness said, an
incised wound of about an inch and three-quarters
in extent in the abdomen, and four other wounds
on the body. A great deal of hemorrhage took place,
and Harrington died about three o'clock on the follow-
ing day. The witness said that the unfortunate man,
when he made the statement to Potter, was perfectly
conscious.

A number of witnesses were called for the defence.
Their evidence went principally to show that, at the
time the deceased was struck, a regular melee was
in progress, a number of Italians armed with knives
being present. Gregorio was spoken of as havino-
struck out indiscriminately with his knife.

112 THE KNIFE.

A witness named Angelinetta, and another named
Mossi, were among those who deposed that Gregorio
closely resembled the prisoner, and that, since the
night in question, he had been missing.

A man named Cetti swore that, after the occurrence,
Gregorio came up to him with a knife in his hand,
and that he subsequently threw it into the yard of
the public-house.

A boy of the name of Cowlands spoke to finding
the knife in the urinal, picking it up, and handing-
it to Inspector Potter.

I will here again point out that Inspector Potter,
in his evidence in chief, said nothing about the finding
of the knife.

After the boy's evidence, Potter was recalled. On
being questioned about the knife, he produced one, and
said : " This is what I received from the last witness."

Cowlands, on being recalled, swore, however, that
the knife produced was not the one he had found
and handed to the Inspector. " It was," he said,
using a rather remarkable expression, " much looser
than this."

A number of other Italians were called, though
their evidence was not particularly satisfactory.

At a late hour, and after an elaborate summing-up
by the Judge, the jury retired. They reappeared
in a comparatively short time, and returned a verdict
of " Guilty," whereupon the Judge sentenced the
prisoner to death.

INTERPOSITION OF ME. NEGEETT1. 113

The verdict created a great sensation among the
Italians resident in London. The Italian Ambassador,
and Count MafTei, the Secretary to the Legation, had
interviews with the Minister at the Home Office, on
the subject of Pelizzioni's fate. The papers also took
the matter up, especially The Daily Telegraph, in the
columns of which it was argued at great length that,
in view of the evidence of the Italians, it would be
unsafe to take the man's life. It was stated that
Gregorio could be traced, but that time was necessary
for the purpose. This argument had its effect, and,
just before the day appointed for Pelizzioni's execution,
he was respited.

Mr. Negretti, the senior partner in the firm of
Negretti and Zambra, the opticians of Holborn Viaduct,
was mainly instrumental in tracing Gregorio. He,
indeed, strained every nerve to save his countryman's
life.

In a few days it was reported that Gregorio Mogni
had been arrested at Birmingham. He had, it was
stated, made certain confessions to an Italian priest
there, in consequence of which Mr. Negretti had
been communicated with, and had at once proceeded
to the Midland metropolis with some officers from
Bow Street. Gregorio was then arrested.

It was stated that Gregorio had dealt the fatal
blow, but that, as he did so in a general melee, his
offence was not murder, but merely manslaughter.

On Thursday, March 2nd, that is to say, exactly

VOL. I. I

114 TRIAL OF GREGORIO.

one month and a day from the date of Pelizzioni's
trial, Gregorio Mogni was placed in the dock on the
charge of feloniously killing and slaying Michael
Harrington. The case came before Mr. Justice Byles
and a jury composed of six foreigners and six English-
men. Mr. Serjeant Ballantine, Mr. F. H. Lewis, and
Mr. Oppenhein conducted the prosecution. The
prisoner had no counsel of his own, and refused to
plead. A plea of " Not Guilty ' was entered for him,
and, at the learned Judge's request, I consented to
defend him. All the materials I had were a report
of the Pelizzioni trial, which my clerk cut out of The
Daily Telegraph, and a copy of the depositions taken
before the magistrate at Bow Street.

A good deal of the evidence given at the previous
trial was gone over afresh. Mrs. Shaw, however, the
landlady of the " Golden Anchor," who had not been
called at the first trial, was now put into the box.
She swore that her husband, who, it was admitted,
had been struck by somebody before Harrington
received the fatal blow, had been struck by Gregorio.
She also swore that, as Harrington was entering the
tap-room, she saw him seized by Gregorio. The latter
raised his hand as if to strike his captive, who was,
however, by some means or other taken away. She
saw no more of Grregorio, and did not see Harrington

o ' O

stabbed. In conclusion, she said that she was present
at the first trial, though she had not been called as.
a witness.

THE EVIDENCE AGAINST HIM. 115

Giovanni Mogni was then called. He said that
on the night in question his brother Gregorio was set
upon by Harrington and a party of Englishmen, where-
upon, appealing for help, he exclaimed : " Brother,
they kill me ! " The prisoner, the witness said, then
drew his knife and struck out right and left with it.
Giovanni deposed that he saw Harrington in the
room, though he could not say who stabbed him.

Serjeant Ballantine produced a knife which the
witness swore was that which had been used by his
brother. On being cross-examined, he said that he left
London after the occurrence because he was frightened.

O

A man named Pietro Maraggi also spoke to seeing
the prisoner with a knife in his hand. The witness said
to him : " Gregorio, for God's sake put away that
knife." Gregorio replied that if he did so they would
not get out of that room alive. A quarter of an hour
afterwards, when in Cross Street, the witness met the
prisoner, who said: "My dear Maraggi, what have I
done?' He replied: "You used a knife." The
prisoner then said: "Yes, I stabbed three or four.
Good-bye. I'm going home. Good night."

A number of other witnesses were called, and
among them Giovanni Schiena, who said that he lived
in Birmingham, where he met the prisoner after the
Pelizzioni trial. The prisoner told him that he had left
London because he was in disgrace. He explained that
he was in the row that took place at the " Golden
Anchor," and that it was he who killed Harrington.

c
I 2

116 PELIZZIONl's STATEMENT.

In cross-examination by me the witness altered his
statement. He now said that the words used by the
prisoner were : " I have been in a row, and I stabbed
several, and one is dead. I do not know about the
others — whether they are well or not." The witness
concluded his evidence by saying that he did not
mention what had taken place until the following
Saturday.

It was now that the great sensation of the
trial occurred. Pelizzioni himself was called and
examined by Mr. Serjeant Ballantine. I will give
his statement practically verbatim. He said :

" I am now in Newgate, under sentence of death.
I understand English a little. I have been in this
country about ten or eleven years. I know the
' Golden Anchor ' public - house on Saffron Hill. I
was there on the night of the 26th of December. I was
not there when the row began. I was in a public-
house we called Bordessa's. I was talking there with
some Italians, and one of the Italians came and said
that there was a row down at the ' Anchor ' along
with the English and the Italians. Then he said :
' Your two cousins are down there along with the row.'
I then went down. I thought to make it quiet and see
my two cousins, Gregorio and Giovanni, and take them
away. Directly I went into the tap-room I heard a
woman scream. She was the landlady of the house.
When she saw me she called me by name. ' Seraphim/
she said, ' my God ! Don't let them make no row.'

THE KNIFE AGAIX.

I said, ' No, Eliza. Tell your husband to keep the
English people on one side. I shall try to take the
Italians the other way.' I left her there in the tap-
room in a small corner going through the bar, and
I went into the bagatelle-room where I thought the row
was. Directly I opened the door of the bagatelle room
just enough to come in, I had a knock on my head, and
it knocked me clown right on the floor. When half of
my body was inside and half outside the door, some one
caught hold of my arm and dragged me inside the
bagatelle-room. Thus I was kept down there till a
policeman came. When the policeman came, somebody
said to him : ' I give you in charge of this man.' I
said : ' Who gives me in charge ? ' There was a woman
there, and she said : ' I will give you in charge, because
you crave me a knock in mv mouth and knocked me

JO •/

down with your fist.' I had no knife in my possession
at that time. A small knife was taken from me with
a white handle. It was taken from me at the Police
Court from my right trouser pocket." Looking at a
black knife produced by Serjeant Ballantine, he added,
" This is not it."

The witness was cross-examined by me, and I put
the following question to him : " Do you know a police-
constable of the name of Baldock ? ':

The answer was, " No ; " but upon Baldock being
called into Court, the witness said : " I know that man
by sight, but I don't know his name. When I was
taken to the station-house," he continued, " I don't

118 ME. KEGKETTl'S EVIDENCE.

know whether I was charged with stabbing a man
named Rebbeck. The woman said she would give me
in charge for knocking her down by my fist. I don't
know whether I was charged with stabbing Rebbeck — I
can't say. I know that something was said to me that
night, but I couldn't hear anything because my head
pained me so much. I know the constable read a paper
to me, but I couldn't understand. He asked me if I
understood English, and I said, ' a little/ He
examined my hands, on which there was blood, and he
asked me where it came from. I did not say to him,
' I only protected myself.' I said I had the blood from
my head. I said I put my hands up to feel rny head.
I didn't make any further statements by the bedside of
the dead man, as alleged by the police. I didn't under-
stand what the dead man said."

Mr. Negretti was the last witness called by the
prosecution, and he stated that he was a partner in the
firm of Negretti and Zambia, of Holborn ; that he was
an Italian ; and that he had resided in this country for
thirty -five years. He said that five or six days after
the trial of Pelizzioni he received from Birmingham a
paper that was sent by Giovanni Mogni. It arrived
twenty minutes before the time at which the express
train to Birmingham was due to start ; nevertheless he
succeeded in catching that train. Arriving at Birming-
ham, he sought out Gregorio and found him in a
carpenter's workshop. The witness said that the first
thing he did on seeing Gregorio was to put up his

HIS MEETING WITH GREGORIO.

finger and say, " You rascal ! Is it possible you can't
get into a fight without using a knife ! " Gregorio, the
witness said, seemed rather staggered at this, and replied:
"Mr. Negretti, you would have done the same if you
had been in my place." The witness asked: "Do
you know that your cousin is going to be hanged ? '
The answer was, "No." The witness then said : "Yes,
he is ; " whereupon Gregorio exclaimed : " Is there no
means to save him ? " The witness said : " Only by
giving yourself up to justice." Gregorio reflected a
little, seemed confused, and then said : " Mr. Negretti,
I am ready." He at once took down his coat from
a peg in the workshop, and added : " Mr. Negretti,
my cousin shan't be hanged for me." The witness went
on to say, that he and Gregorio afterwards proceeded to
the station. On the way thither, the latter said: "I
wish to tell you the whole truth. On the night of the
murder, I had been drinking a good deal of rum. We
Italians were all treating each other, till I was the worse
for liquor. Then there was a fight between the English
and Italians. I went to my brother Giovanni's as-
sistance. The fight took place in the bagatelle-room
and at the time, my cousin Pelizzioni was not there."
The witness said that, when they were in the train, he
asked Gregorio to go at once to Newgate, and tell his
cousin that he had come to deliver himself up.

In cross-examination by me, Mr. Negretti stated that
he was supplying the means for conducting the present
prosecution. He also stated that Gregorio had in his

120 GUILTY OF MANSLAUGHTER.

possession a passport, obtained from a fellow country-
man.

Having addressed the jury for the defence, I called
all the English witnesses who had appeared in the first
trial, their evidence being for the most part a repetition
of that which they had previously given. Baldock
stated the additional facts, however, that he took the
knife with the white handle from Pelizzioni ; that the
other knife — -the one with the broken point, which
had been identified as the property of Gregorio — was
given to him, and that he was not present when the
latter was found. On being cross-examined by Serjeant
Ballantine, he stated that he received the knife with the
broken point from Constable Macmann (78 G), who
was not present as a witness. He further stated that he
found the knife with the white handle in Pelizzioui's
pocket, and that the other knife was not produced or
made evidence either at the Police Court, or at the
previous trial.

The jury retired to consider their verdict, and, on
re-entering the box, found Gregorio guilty of man-
slaughter. They, however, strongly recommended him
to mercy, on account of the provocation he had received.
Gregorio was then sentenced to five years' penal servi-
tude.

Here, then, was a state of things absolutely without
precedent. Pelizzioni was in the condemned cell at
Newgate, under sentence of death for the murder of
Michael Harrington ; Gregorio Mogni was in Millbank,

AN ENIGMA AND ITS SOLUTION. 121

about to undergo five years' penal servitude for the
man slaughter of the same man. The Home Secretary,
for the present, positively declined to release Pelizzioni.
What, then, was to be done ? A solution of the enigma
was at length found. There was still, on the files of
the Court, the indictment against Pelizzioni for attempt-
ing to kill and murder Rebbeck. As iustice was still

O J

unsatisfied on this indictment, it was resolved to try
Pelizzioni afresh for the offence referred to. The matter
was considered of such importance that two Judges came
down to the Old Bailey to preside over the trial.

On "Wednesday, April 12th, Thursday the 13th, and
(Good Friday intervening) Saturday the 15th, Seraphini
Pelizzioni was put upon his trial for feloniously wound-
ing, with intent to murder, Alfred Eebbeck; the prisoner
being, on a second count, further charged with the
intent to do him grievous bodily harm. The Crown
was represented by Mr. Hardinge-Giffard, Q.C. (he
had just taken silk), and Mr. Besley, while Mr. Serjeant
Ballantine, Mr. Ribton, and Mr. F. H. Lewis appeared
for the prisoner.

I do not propose to go at any length through the
evidence. Again Rebbeck was called as a witness for
the prosecution. He swore that the prisoner was the
man who stabbed him, and he also deposed that when
he was taken to the hospital, Mr. Hill, the surgeon, told
him to speak the truth, as he was dying. He looked
up, and, seeing the prisoner standing by his bedside, said :
" That is the man that did it." He deposed that the

122 FURTHER EVIDENCE.

prisoner held his head back, but made no reply. The
witness said that he had been in the hospital about two
months, and that he had known the prisoner before
the occurrence at the " Golden Anchor."

Rebbeck was severely cross-examined by Ballantine,
but adhered to his statement that it was Pelizzioni who
had struck him.

A man named Bannister, who had also been stabbed
upon the night in question, was now put into the
witness-box. He swore, among other things, that
he did not know who it was that stabbed him, and
that Pelizzioni was the only Italian in the room,
when Rebbeck and Harrington were wounded.

Fawel, the policeman, was called, and gave evidence
with reference to the knife. He said: "I think it
was on the following night that I saw the knife given
to Mr. Potter by the potman at Bordessa's, which
is close to the ' Golden Anchor.' I was alongside
Mr. Potter when I saw the knife. I don't know
whether it is here now; I fancy" (looking at a knife
that was handed to him) " that is the one. I believe
Mr. Potter kept possession of the knife after he received
it from the potman."

John Macmann (78 G) was then called. He stated
that he received the knife from a boy, who pointed
out the spot on which he had found it. The witness
added that he placed a stone to mark the spot indicated
by the boy. He further stated that when he received
the knife it had a quantity of blood upon it, the

PELIZZIONI PARDONED. 123

stains that remained not representing the whole of
the amount. He deposed that he gave the knife to
Serjeant Baldock, who handed it to Mr. Potter.

The next witness was Inspector Potter, who adhered
to his former statement as to what took place at
Harrington's bedside. He said that he received the
knife from one of the officers — it might have been
Baldock. When under cross-examination by the
Serjeant — and it was one of the best pieces of cross-
examination I ever heard in my life — he admitted
that the knife was in Court, though not alluded to,
during the first trial, and that subsequently, at the
Police Court, he heard for the first time that it
belonged to Gregorio.

It was during this cross-examination that a rather
funny incident occurred. Ballantine had been bearing-
somewhat heavily upon the witness — as to his ex-
perience, as to the non-production of the knife, and
so forth — and one of the questions he asked was :
"Mr. Potter, when were you made Inspector?'1

Instantly the policeman replied : " On the same
day, sir, that you were made Serjeant."

In the end, after a most exhaustive trial, Pelizzioni
was acquitted on this indictment. A few days after-
wards he received Her Majesty's most gracious pardon
for the murder of Michael Harrington, and was released.

I have given somewhat copious details of these
three trials for this reason : the case was perhaps
the most remarkable one that I ever took part in.

124 WHO WAS GUILTY ?

I have never been able to make up my mind as to
the truth of the matter. Did Gregorio sacrifice himself
for his cousin and friend ? Of course it is obvious
that in the one case there was the certainty that life
would be sacrificed, whereas, in the other, all that
could take place would be that the liberty of the
subject would be temporarily suspended. Certainly,
according to the testimony of Mr. Negretti, like Nisus
of old, Gregorio practically exclaimed : " Me me adsum
cjui feci in me convertite ferrura."

CHAPTER X.

SI JUDICAS COGNOSCE.

A case of sheep-stealing — The alibi I set up — It is pooh-poohed from
the Bench — A verdict of " Guilty " -What took place twelve
months later — " You condemned an innocent man "• —The
Drovers' Association take the matter up — Her Majesty's
" pardon " — The prison doors release a maniac — Anticipatory
mourning : Hawkins' little joke — " A fly-blow in the ocean."

IT was about this time that I figured in another trial of
a remarkable character. A man, whose name for the
moment I forget, was charged at the Middlesex Sessions,
before Sir William Bodkin, with sheep-stealing. Mr.
Metcalfe prosecuted, and I defended.

The evidence against the prisoner depended entirely
upon the question of identity. Two policemen declared
that one morning, just as daylight was breaking, they
met the prisoner, in the neighbourhood of Hornsey,
driving a flock of sheep in the direction of the Cattle
Market. The prisoner, it was alleged, stopped one of the
constables, and asked for a light for his pipe, which was
given him. Both witnesses positively swore that the
prisoner was the man. They had, in fact, picked him

126 THE ALIBI I SET UP.

out at the station, from a number of other persons ; and
there was no shaking their evidence.

A publican from the Meat Market was also called,
and he swore that the prisoner was the man who drove
the sheep into his yard to be slaughtered. The butcher
who bought the carcases was also called, and he declared
on oath that the prisoner was the man who sold them
to him.

The accused strongly protested his innocence. My
instructions were to call witnesses who would prove a
conclusive alibi. These witnesses were the prisoner's
father, mother, and sisters. He was a married man ; but,
of course, it was not competent for him to call his wife
as a witness on his behalf. The law which prohibits
this course of action will probably soon be altered, and.,
in my humble opinion, the sooner the better.

The family all lived together in three little rooms.
A plan of the house was produced — a rough plan, such
as alone would be within the means of a poor man —
and from this plan it appeared that the sisters occupied
a room approached from the passage, and that the
prisoner and his wife occupied a room that had only
one door, which opened into the third room — the one
occupied by the father and mother. As I have said,
the various members of the prisoner's family, except
his wife, were put into the box. They all swore that
at about eleven o'clock p.m., the prisoner and his-
wife retired to bed, that the former got up between
six and seven on the following morninsf. and that he

IT IS POOH-POOHED. 127

had not stirred from his room in the interval. Had
he done so, it was pointed out, he must Lave passed
through the room occupied by his father and mother,
who would assuredly have heard him ; and they both
swore positively that they had not done so, that he
had not passed through, and that the outer door had
not been unfastened during the night.

These good folks s;ave their evidence most admi-

o o

rably, and upon their being cross-examined by opposing
counsel, their statements were not shaken in the least.
They appeared to be honest and respectable people, and
it was manifest that they felt acutely the miserable
position in which their relative was placed.

In summing up, the Assistant Judge, Sir William,
pooh-poohed the alibi. He observed that they must
all feel sorry for the witnesses. They were, however,
relatives of the prisoner, and, therefore, they had the
strongest inducement to shield him. His lordship also
pointed out that it had transpired that the prisoner
was the breadwinner of the family, whose members,
he added, had thus an additional motive for stating
that which was not true. He then went on to explain
to the jury how easy it was to establish an alibi. " You
have only," he said, " to state a certain number of
facts which are actually true, to change the date, and
there you have your alibi. This is how alibi-s are
fabricated."

The jury returned a verdict of " Guilty," and the
prisoner was sentenced to five years' penal servitude.

128 AX UNEXPECTED CONFESSION.

Twelve months elapsed, and again, in the same
Court and before the same Judge, I appeared to defend
a man who was charged with an offence of the same
class. It was a wholesale business ; the prisoner had
been at it for years. He rented a cottage, attached
to which were some out-houses, used by him for the
slaughter of the sheep he had stolen. Some of the
animals' carcases were found hanging in one of these
receptacles, and close by lay a heap of the skins,
with the marks of the owners branded upon them.
Further than this, there was the evidence of the boots.
In the mud at the place where the sheep were stolen,
footprints were found, and it wras seen that there had
been four nails missing from one of the boots that
had made those footprints. This was the boot of the
right foot, and it was discovered that four nails were
also missing from the prisoner's right boot.

The case was one of those in which counsel for the
defence has little to do. He can only, as Huddlestou
once put it, jump in and splash about. I did this ;
but it is scarcely necessary to mention the result.
The prisoner was found guilty. The Judge asked
him if he had anything to say, and, to the astonish-
ment of everybody, he replied :

"Nothing about myself, my lord, but something
about you. A. year ago you condemned an innocent
man, and he is at present undergoing penal servitude.
Mr. Williams, my counsel, was counsel for him. It
was I who stole the sheep that were driven from

TOO LATE ! 129

Hornsey to the Meat Market. I am he for whom
the innocent man was identified. Look at me, sir ;
look at me, Mr. Williams."

I looked, and perceived that the prisoner was
speaking the truth ; the men were as like as two
peas.

The Judo;e — for no Jud^e likes to think he has

o o

been wrong — pooh-poohed the matter ; but the chair-
man of the Drovers' Association, on reading the report
of the trial in the newspapers, took the matter up.
The Drovers' Association, fortunately, is not a poor
body. The case was brought before the Home Secretary,
affidavits were made, proofs were exhibited, and, in
the end, Her Majesty's "pardon" was granted to the
man who had been wrongly condemned.

The poor fellow was liberated, in a terribly shattered
state of health. What reparation could be made to
him ? His wife had died during his imprisonment,
and the other members of the family — he no longer
being present to support them — had been driven into
the workhouse. These facts were brought before
Parliament by one of the metropolitan Members, and the
matter was discussed, with the result that it was
decided to give this man, as compensation for the
wrongs he had sustained, a sum of money — I forget
the exact sum, but it was not a large one.

What sarcasm ! The man had become hopelessly
insane, and, if still alive, is an inmate of one of the
metropolitan lunatic asylums.

VOL. I. K

130 HAWKINS'S JOKE.

I cannot forbear from referring to an incident that
occurred in connection with the trial of Karl Kohl, early
in the year 1865, for the cruel murder of Theodore
Christian Flihrhop. The prisoner was prosecuted by the
Solicitor-General, Serjeant Ballantine, and Mr. Hannen.
(now President of the Divorce Court), and was defended
by Mr. Best and Mr. Harry Palmer. The case may be
brought home to the recollection of some of my readers
when I mention that it was known as the murder of the
Plaistowe Marshes.

Poor Best was always most unfortunate in his
clients. He used to be the defending counsel in a great
many murder cases of the poorer sort. By that I mean,
cases in which there was very little money.

Just as Best was about to rise to address the jury
for the prisoner, a large white envelope was handed to
him by the usher. It was sealed with black sealing-
wax and bound with black ribbon. Upon opening it,
Best discovered that the envelope contained a black
hatband and a pair of black kid gloves. These had been
sent to him by Hawkins, as anticipatory mourning for
his client.

I am here reminded of another anecdote about Best.
He was a most extraordinary elocutionist, and was
always indulging in sensational and high-flown forms
of speech. On one occasion he was conducting a case
of debt at Westminster before a common jury, and,
addressing them, he said : " Gentlemen, your verdict is
life or death to my client, the defendant. He is a poor

A QUEER SIMILE. 131

man, and an adverse verdict will be his ruin. Con-
sider, gentlemen, what it would be to the plaintiff.
Why, it would be nothing to him. He is a man of
substance and of means, and to him an adverse verdict
would be only like a fly-blow in the ocean."

K 2

CHAPTER XI.

QUI DUO CORPORIBUS MENTIBUS UNUS ERANT.

The Cannon Street murder — Evidence of the cook — An important
letter — Mrs. Bobbins' testimony — Statement by George Terry—
I call witnesses for the defence — Great conflict of evidence : the
issue hopelessly confused — A verdict of "K"ot Guilty" — The
murder remains a mystery— My friend Douglas Straight — My
earliest recollection of him : how he cuffed the ears of two small
boys — "The Twins"-— An amusing observation that we over-
heard.

THE next trial of any importance in which I was
concerned was that of William Smith for the murder
of Sarah Milson, housekeeper to Messrs. Bevington
and Sons, of No. 2, Cannon Street, City, the case
being popularly known as "The Cannon Street Murder."
I appeared as counsel for the accused at the preliminary
hearing before the magistrate at the Mansion House,
when my client was committed for trial.

The case came on at the Central Criminal Court
on the 13th and 14th of June. It was in the
mayoralty of Sir Benjamin Phillips, and the Judge
was Mr. Baron Bramwell. The prosecution was con-
ducted by Messrs. Metcalfe and Douglas Straight,

THE VICTIM. 133

and the defence by Serjeant Ballantine, myself, and
Mr. Littler. The case was one in which I took a
very great deal of interest, because, as will be seen
by-and-by, the prisoner was a native of Eton ; and
the alibi that we set up involved a question as to
whether he could have got to the Slough Station in
a given time from the far end of Windsor. As the
reader will remember, I had lived at Windsor and
Eton in my early days and therefore was very familiar
with the whole locality.

It appeared that the deceased woman was a widow,
and that she had been in Messrs. Bevington's employ-
ment for some years. The premises were looked after
by her and a man named Kit, part of whose duty
it was to lock the doors at night, when all the
" hands " had left. He gave the keys to Mrs. Milson,
taking care to keep the key of the safe separate from
the others. The only possible access to the building
at night was from Cannon Street.

The murder took place on the evening of Wednesday,
the llth of April. Kit deposed that, when he had
locked up on that day, he called Mrs. Milson through
the speaking tube, and, upon her coming downstairs,
handed her the keys. Afterwards, having seen that
the gas was alight in the lobby, he left the building,
Mrs. Milson showing him out.

The next witness was the cook, who had been
in the establishment about the same length of time
as Mrs. Milson. On the night of the murder, she

134 FINDING THE BODY.

and the deceased were the only two persons in the
building. In her evidence, she stated that after the
place had been closed, and while Mrs. Milson was
sitting in the dining-room, and she was in the bed-
room, she heard a ring at the bell. She was about
to go down and answer it, when Mrs. Milson called
out to her from the dining-room, saying :

"Elizabeth, the bell is for me; I will go down."

This was, as nearly as the witness could recollect,
at about ten minutes past nine. She never saw
Mrs. Milson alive again. On subsequently going
down with a candle, she found the poor creature lying
dead at the foot of the stairs. At once she ran to
the door and, seeing a police-constable, called him in.
They examined the body, and found that the head
of the deceased was partially battered in, and that
there was a quantity of blood upon the stairs.

This witness further deposed that on several evenings,
prior to the date in question, a man had called to see
the housekeeper. The witness said that she herself
had never seen this man ; but that on one occasion,
just before his arrival, Mrs. Milson had borrowed two
sovereigns from her. She lent the money, and it was
afterwards repaid.

The constable who had been called in was next placed
in the box, and, having given evidence as to the position
in which he found the body, produced a crowbar which
he had discovered lying close by, and which, though
it had no stains of blood remaining upon it, was un-

THE LETTER AND THE RECEIPT. 135

doubtedly the instrument with which the murder was
committed.

In the course of the evidence, a letter was produced
which was found in one of the boxes of the deceased.
It ran as follows :

"Mrs. Milson, the bearer of this, I have sent to
you as my adviser. I have taken this course, as I
have received so much annoyance from Mrs. Webber
that I can put up with it no longer. I will propose
terms to you which you may except or not at your
pleasure. Failing to your agreeing to this proposal,
he is instructed by me to see Mr. Bevington, and explain
to him how the matter stands. You know yourself
what reasons you put forth for borrowing the money-
doctors' bills and physicians for your husband, which
you know was not so. I shall also have him bring
your sister before Mr. Bevington, if necessity, or your
obstinacy, compels my adviser to go to the extreme.

" (Signed) GEORGE TERRY.''"

A receipt was also produced which had been found
with the letter. It was in the following terms :

"Received of Mrs. Milson, £1. W. Denton, for
George Terry, 20, Old Change."

It was proved in the course of the case that the
prisoner had at one time lived at that address.

John Moss, a City detective, detailed the circum-
stances under which he apprehended the prisoner. He

136 EVIDENCE OF THE DETECTIVE.

proceeded to Eton, it appears, with the letter and the
receipt in his pocket. Calling at 6, Eton Square, he
found the prisoner and his mother there.

He said to the former : "Is your name William
Smith?" The reply was: "Yes." He then said:
" When were you in London last ? ): To this the
prisoner replied : " On the 10th of January, with my
mother." The witness deposed that he then showed
the prisoner the document signed " W. Denton, for
George Terry," and asked : " Is this your hand-
writing?'1 The prisoner answered: "Yes, it is. I
now know what you mean. I wrote a note for a
man." The detective deposed that he then went on
to say: "Were you in London last week?'1 to which
the prisoner replied: "Let my mother answer you."
The woman then said that she thought her son was
not in London during the week, and upon being
asked what time he came home on the night in
question, she replied that she could not tell what time
it was, as she was in bed when he arrived. She
went on to say that he had been a great trial
to her, for he never would do any work. The witness
said that after being arrested, the prisoner was brought
up to London, and that on the journey to town he wore
a tall hat. The detective stated, however, that he
found a "billycock" belonging to the prisoner in his
mother's house. Smith was told that he would be
charged with wilful murder, and that it was most
important for him to remember where he was between

WHAT MRS. BOBBINS SAW. 137

seven and ten o'clock on the llth of April. He
considered awhile, and then said : " I was with a Mr.
Harris ; " then he added, " I first went with that
letter" (alluding to the document signed "W. Denton,
for George Terry"). "The latter part of last year
I called there at about three o'clock in the afternoon.
She (Mrs. Milson) was washing up, I believe, at the
time. It was either Thursday or Friday." The
detective then said : " Did you write the receipt ? "
To this the prisoner replied : (i It is of no use
denying that it is in my handwriting. It can be
proved to be." On being pressed as to why he had
signed " W. Denton," he said : " I have sometimes
called myself by that name." The prisoner went on
to say that he had called three times on Mrs. Milson,
that she had paid him two sovereigns, and that he
had given her a receipt each time.

John Foulger, an Inspector of the City Police at
Bow Lane Station — and I may here, in parenthesis,
say, one of the ablest officers of that most excellent
force — deposed that on the day after the murder, a
woman named Mrs. Bobbins came to him and said
that she could give some information respecting a man
who had left Messrs. Bevington's premises on the
previous evening. The Inspector then went on to
explain an artifice that was resorted to in order to
see whether Mrs. Bobbins would be able to identify
the man in custody as the man whom she saw leave
Messrs. Bevington's premises. The prisoner, without

138 IDENTIFICATION TESTS.

being handcuffed, and accompanied by two officers in
plain clothes, was made to walk from Bow Lane to
the Mansion House, Cannon Street being of course
traversed en route. There was nothing to indicate
that the man was in custody, as he was permitted
to walk in perfect freedom. Inspector Foulger had
previously told Mrs. Bobbins to stand at her door
for a quarter of an hour and see whether she saw
any one resembling the man to whom she had referred.
After the prisoner had passed by, the Inspector went
to Mrs. Bobbins, and, in consequence of what she told
him, requested her to come to the Mansion House.
A number of persons were there placed with the
prisoner in a room, through which Mrs. Bobbins was
made to pass and repass. As she was traversing the
room for the second time, she exclaimed, pointing to
the prisoner : "The third man is the man that I

saw/

Inspector Foulger was subjected to a long and able
cross-examination by the Serjeant, who endeavoured,
by his questions, to obtain an admission to the effect
that the artifice resorted to afforded an indirect means
of fixing Mrs. Bobbins' attention upon the prisoner.

A man of the name of Betterson gave evidence,
and stated that, about four or five months ago, while
in the warehouse, he saw the prisoner, who asked for
Mrs. Milson. Another witness was a woman who
deposed that she was on friendly terms with Mrs.
Milson, whom she was in the habit of visiting, and

AN EXTRAORDINARY EXPRESSION. 1391

that, on the occasion of one of her visits, she had
seeu the prisoner at the house in Cannon Street.

Catherine Collins, who had been a servant of
Mrs. Bobbins during the two or three months pre-
vious to the murder, stated that she had seen the
prisoner call next door on more than one occasion.

Mrs. Bobbins herself was the next witness, and
upon her to a very large extent the prosecution de-
pended. She said that she was a widow, and that
she acted as housekeeper at No. 1, Cannon Street,
living on the premises with her servant, Catherine
Collins. She stated that, on the llth April, she went
out at about ten minutes to eight, returning at about
ten minutes to ten. She rang the bell, and, just as
she was doing so, was very much alarmed by the
violent slamming of Messrs. Bevington's door. Look-
ing round, she saw a man leave the steps, and pass
her on the right. He gave her a side look as he
passed her, with reference to which proceeding the.
witness used the following extraordinary expression :
"His left eye and my right eye met at the same
moment." The light of the hall-lamp was shining
on the man's face, and he walked in a very hurried
manner, leaning forward as he went. When she saw
him leave Messrs. Bevington's, he was wearing dark
clothes, and a tall hat.

George Terry was then put into the box, and
he stated that he was at present an inmate of St.
Olave's Workhouse. He had, he said, known Mrs.

140 CALLING FOR THE MONEY.

Milson during her husband's lifetime, when she lived
next door to him. She was friendly with his wife
at the time. As she was in difficulties, he got a
Mrs. Webber to lend her some money — he believed
as much as £35. Some time afterwards, he himself
got into difficulties, and ultimately had to go into
the workhouse. At the end of the previous year — 1865
— he was lodging in Dancer Street, near the Mint.
He knew the prisoner then by sight, and that was
all. They were living at the same lodging-house.
He knew the prisoner by the name of Bill. One day
he said to the prisoner: "There is some money owing
to me," to which the prisoner replied : " I can get it."
They then talked the matter over, and the prisoner
promised that he would see about it. The next day
they went out together, and, after the witness had
bought a piece of paper, they went to the " Globe ':
public-house, where the prisoner wrote a letter.

The witness said he did not remember what was in
the letter, which, however, he knew was addressed to
Mrs. Milson. They both went out together, and he
pointed out to the prisoner the establishment of Messrs.
Bevington, in Cannon Street. The prisoner called
there, and, when he came out, said he had been told
that he could not see Mrs. Milson then, but that he
must return at about three o'clock. They went away,
but returned at the specified hour, when the prisoner
again entered the premises alone. He reappeared in
about half an hour's time, and said : " How much do

A CONVERSATION IX A PUBLIC-HOUSE. 141

you think I've got ? " The witness replied, " Two-
pounds ; " but the prisoner explained that he had only
got twelve shillings. He handed over a portion of the
money, remarking that Mrs. Milson had had to borrow
it from the cook. The witness went on to say that he
had never sent the prisoner to the house again, and was
not aware that he had received two other sums of one
pound each.

Henry Giles, a boat-builder, of Brockhurst Lane,

Eton, gave some most important evidence. He said

that, on the llth or 12th of April, he saw the prisoner

in Bingfield's beerhouse. Addressing the prisoner, the

witness said : " Will you have a game of dominoes ? "

To this the reply had been, " I can't, as I have forty

miles to go to-night." The witness said: "You can't

go forty miles to-night," to which the prisoner replied :

" Yes, I can. Supposing I were to go to London and

back, that would make it, wouldn't it ? " The witness

said: "But you are not going to London to-night,"

to which the reply was : " Yes, I am." The witness

then said : " You're a liar ! " and they parted. This, it

appeared, took place at about seven o'clock in the

evening. Giles deposed that at that time the prisoner

was wearing a black chimney-pot hat, a black coat, and

dark trousers. A witness named Blackman stated that

some time after seven o'clock, on the night in question,

he saw the prisoner hurrying towards Slough. A

guard on the Great Western Railway deposed that on

Wednesday, the llth of April, he worked the 7.43

142 THE ISSUE HOPELESSLY CONFUSED.

train from Slouch to PaddiuQjton. It left Slough, lie

o o o *

said, at the proper time, and arrived at Paddington at
8.40 — the exact minute it was due. It was also proved
by the guard that on the same night a train left
Paddington at 10.45, and arrived at Windsor at 11.43.
It was also given in evidence that anybody, under ordi-
nary circumstances, could walk from Paddington Station
to Bishop's Eoad Station in three minutes, and that the
Metropolitan Railway trains ran every five or ten
minutes from Bishop's Eoad to Farringdon Street and
Moorgate Street stations, the time occupied on the
journey being from twenty to twenty-three minutes.

This concluded the case for the prosecution. My
leader made his speech, and I proceeded to call a number
of witnesses for the defence.

It is clear that everything depended upon the where-
abouts of the accused on the day of the murder; and it
will have been seen that a great deal of evidence had
been given which pointed, apparently conclusively, to
his having been upon the scene of the crime. I was now
able to bring forward some remarkable evidence, how-
ever, which had the effect of hopelessly confusing the
issue, for witness after witness came forward and testi-
fied, with much minuteness of detail, to the fact of the
prisoner, on the night in question, having been at Eton.
These witnesses included a bootmaker, for whom the
prisoner had .worked on the llth of April, and the boot-
maker's son ; a photographer, who swore positively that
he saw the prisoner, between eight and half-past, in a

VERDICT OF "NOT GUILTY." 143

public-house at Windsor ; three men, who deposed to
having played cards with him at that public-house at
the time specified ; the wife of the proprietor of the
public-house, who said she had served him with beer as
late as twenty minutes past eleven ; and his two sisters.

At the end of the evidence, Mr. Baron Bramwell — •
one of the brightest, soundest, and most lucid Judges
that ever sat upon the English Bench — summed up, and
the jury, after mature deliberation, returned a verdict
of "Not Guilty," whereupon the prisoner was released.

So far as I am aware, from that day to this, nothing
more has been heard about the perpetrator of this crime.
This is, indeed, one of the many cases of murder in
which justice remains unsatisfied ; and, owing to the
lapse of time, there is every probability that no further
light will ever now be thrown upon the mystery.

My very dear friend, Douglas Straight, was called to
the Bar on the llth of November, 1865. Thus only
seven months had elapsed when he figured in this im-
portant case. His leader, as already stated, was Mr.
Metcalfe, who, I may here mention, subsecpently became
a Q.C., and is now County Court Judge of Bristol.
Douglas Straight and I were opposed to one another on
this and on many subsequent occasions — a circumstance,
however, that never for one moment affected the friend-
ship existing between us.

We were, indeed, the most intimate and the staunchest
of friends, and so we remain to this day. He is now
Mr. Justice Straight, of Allahabad, one of the North-

144 "THE TWINS."

West Provinces of India. In 1891, I believe, he will
become entitled to his pension, and will return to his
native land and to his legion of friends. Douglas
Straight has been the architect of his own fortunes,
My earliest recollection of him dates from the time
when, on leaving Harrow, he came to London, and,
with a view to making a little money, turned his atten-
tion to journalism. An evening newspaper called the
Glow-worm, had just been started, and Douglas be-
came one of its principal contributors. The precise
circumstances under which I first encountered my future
friend were somewhat peculiar. As I was crossing
Waterloo Bridge one day, I saw a young man go up to
two newsboys and soundly cuff their ears ; their offence
being that they had failed to call out the Glow-worm in
sufficiently stentorian tones. It was Douglas Straight.
So intimate did Douglas and I become in after
years, that people called us " The Twins." On one
occasion we had been fighting a case against one
another before an Alderman at the Guildhall, and, on
leaving the building, we linked our arms, and proceeded
together in the direction of " The Garrick," where we
proposed to have lunch. I shall never forget the
remark that fell from one of the by-standers as we
passed up the street. " Lor, Bill," we heard him say,
" ain't we bin sold ! Why, we thought they was
cjuarrellin' together inside, like cat and dog. It's all
a put-up job, Bill. Just look at 'em now, arm in
arm, and roarin' with laughter like two old pals."

CHAPTER XII.

O RUS QUANDO EGO TE ASPICIAM.

No. 8, Upper Brook Street — A new custom of mine — Mr, and Mrs.
Lawson's house at Twickenham — The people who went there —
Napier Sttirt and the diamond merchant — Sir John Holker's
natural surprise— Attempt to burn down The Daily Telegraph
offices— I am sent "Special" to Windsor— A case of rob-
bery— My curious meeting with London detectives -- The
statement one of them made to me regarding my client — I am
obliged to leave before the verdict is returned — The prisoner's
consequent indignation — A verdict of " Not Guilty " —How the
released man treated the police to a champagne supper.

I HAD migrated from Brompton, had lived two years
in Gordon Street, Gordon Square, and, at the period of
which I am now speaking, was located at No. 8, Upper
Brook Street. With the exception of one week spent
on the Lake of Geneva, with Douglas Straight and
other friends, I had taken no holiday during the whole
of my professional career. At length, however, the
strain began to tell upon me, and, in order to obtain
a change of air and scenery, without interfering with
my work, it now became my practice, every summer, to
take a house up the river, either at Twickenham or
Tedclington. In those days Edward Lawson and his

VOL. I. L

:' THE GRANGE " AT TWICKENHAM.

wife had a charming place at Twickenham, called
"The Grange." It had some historical associations,
having been the orangery of the celebrated Mrs.
Jordan. Mr. and Mrs. Lawson were famous for the
Sunday parties they gave there. Lady Waldegrave,
afterwards Lady Carlingford, had large gatherings of
friends at Strawberry Hill, and every Sunday a
detachment of them would come over to "The Grange."

o

Among the number were usually Bernal Osborne,
Henry James, Calcraft, and Hayward. The contingent
of visitors from town as a rule included De Worms,
Sir Henry Hoare, Serjeant Ballantine, Douglas Straight,
Mr. and Mrs. Knox, John Clayton, dear old Sir Thomas
Henry (the Chief Magistrate), Marcus Stone, Tom
Eobertson, Madge Eobertson (now Mrs. Kendal), Mrs.
Keeley, Patti, the Marquise de Caux, General Du Plat,
Monty Corry, and Napier Sturt. Poor Napier ! a better
friend man never had. He was always bemoaning his
fate as a younger son, and it was a frequent practice
of his to pull out a small silver watch, attached to
which by way of chain was a common piece of string,
and to declare that they were his only worldly pos-
sessions. I cannot refrain at this point from telling an
anecdote of Napier, the circumstances of which, when-
ever they recur to my mind, cause me to smile. In
Portland Place there lived a very opulent diamond
merchant, who was a great entertainer, and very fond
of gathering around his table those whom, in the
vocabulary of certain persons, are termed "swells."

NAPIER STURT. U7

His acquaintance with this envied class was limited,
and thus it came about that the services of Napier,
who knew everybody and went everywhere, became
invaluable. Napier it was who sent out the invitations,
and ordered the dinner, the proprietor of the establish-
ment having nothing more to do than to pay the piper,
and receive the guests. I attended one of these dinner
parties, and sat next to Sir John Holker, then Attorney-
General, who was present for the first time. Napier —
who had come late, and, in consequence, had not been
able to pay his customary visit to the cellar with the
butler to arrange what wines were to be drunk — on
tasting his claret, and not finding it to his liking,
turned round to his host and said :

" My dear , how do you suppose I am going to

ask gentlemen to your table if you give them stuff like
this to drink ? For God's sake, let your butler hand me
the keys of the cellar, and come down with me, so that
I may find something fit to drink ; " and without
another word, he received the keys and left the room,
presently to return triumphantly with several bottles
of old Lafitte. I shall never forget the expression on
my neighbour's face as he turned to me, and said :
" Does he often do this ? ''' I replied : " Always."

It was in 1866, that I held my first brief for the
proprietors of The Daily Telegraph. I need hardly
say that in those days the D. T. was thoroughly Glad-
stonian. In point of fact, it was Mr. Gladstone's organ ;
but tempora mutantur nos et mutamur in illis.

T 0
Ll -

148 A CHARGE OF ARSON".

A man named Poole was charged with setting fire to
the offices of the newspaper, which were in Peterborough
Court. At that time, Fred Whitehurst (brother of Felix,
the clever Paris correspondent) was the manager, Mr.
Joseph Ellis was the registered proprietor, Mr. Lionel
Lawson and Mr. J. M. Levy were the principal pro-
prietors, and a small share in the enterprise was held by
Mr. Edward Lawson, and a gentleman named George
Moss.

Mr. Whitehurst was one of the principal witnesses
in the case. It appeared that on Sunday the 24th of
March, he was wending his way home from the office
when he received the startling information that it was

O

on fire. He at once returned, and was not a little
relieved to find that the flames had already been
practically extinguished. However, if the building had
happily been saved from destruction, the situation was
still a serious one. The fire had broken out in three
distinct places, and was therefore clearly the work of an
incendiary. Mr. \Yliitelmrst was able to place other
significant facts before the jury. On the 10th inst.
another fire had occurred at the office of The Daily
Telegraph, and on that occasion the accused, who acted
as time-keeper, had made the following report of the
outbreak :

" A fire having occurred this, Saturday, afternoon in
the old buildings, No. 4, Peterborough Court, and I
having discovered and extinguished the same, I beg to
report it. It broke out, about four o'clock, in the

POOLE FOUND GUILTY. 14'J

basement of the building, and I wish to recommend to
your notice a man who assisted me to extinguish the
flames."

It appeared that this fire had broken out in the
cellar, of which the only key was possessed by the
accused.

As the case proceeded, it was proved, with reference
to the fire of the 24th March, that on that day Poole
entered the paper-room, and said to one of the men :
" Are all the others gone yet ? " The man was, as a
matter of fact, the last one of the " hands " left on the
premises, and he said so. Another witness deposed
that just before the fire broke out he was standing in
the yard, and that the prisoner rushed out of the build-
ing in an excited condition, and exclaimed : " What
business have you here ? ' Further evidence was ad-
duced that went to show that Poole was the only man
on the premises when the outbreak occurred ; and in
the end he was found guilty and sentenced to five years'
penal servitude.

It was about this time that, as one afternoon I was
sitting in my chambers, my clerk came to me and said
that a leading firm of solicitors were very anxious to
know if, on the following Wednesday, I could go
''' special " to Windsor. I can scarcely say " special,"
however, for just before this my father had died, and I
had followed the example of Sir Henry James, and
changed from the Home to the Oxford Circuit, joining
the Berkshire Sessions. The fee offered, however, was

150 ROBBERY AT A PUBLIC-HOUSE.

so large that I looked upon it as a " special " case. It
so happened that the Sessions of the Central Criminal
Court were held in this particular week, and I had
made it an invariable rule, since the time that I got
into considerable practice at the Old Bailey, not to leave
it while the Sessions were on. My reply, therefore, was
that I did not particularly care about the case, and that,
if I accepted it, I should very likely have to neglect it
at the last moment. In about an hour's time the
attorney himself called at my chambers, and, on seeing
me, said :

" You really must go to Windsor on Wednesday.
My client is most anxious to have your services. It is
not a question of money at all. Name your own fee — I
mean anything in reason — and I shall be delighted to
deliver the brief and hand your clerk the cheque."

I refused to suggest a sum, but he named so tempting
a one that I was unable any longer to resist.

On subsequently looking the brief over, judge of my
surprise to find that the case was only a very ordinary
one. Two men — one of whom only had been arrested
-were charged with stealing a cash-box in a public-
house in Peascod Street, Windsor, on the Cup day of
Ascot Races. I read my papers, and the case appeared
to be as conclusive as it could be. The two men had
gone down from Paddington to Windsor, where they
had arrived at about eleven o'clock in the morning, and
they had proceeded together to the public-house, which
was of a sporting character. Two or three barmaids

CAUGHT DIVIDING THE SPOIL. 151

were serving the customers at the time, and, while the
men were having some refreshment, it became necessary
for one of the girls to go to the cash-box and get change
for half-a-sovereign. She threw the lid of the box right
open, thereby disclosiog to view a number of notes and
a quantity of gold. When the races were over the men
returned to the public-house, and the one in custody
made some excuse to go to the back of the bar. In
doing so he distracted the attention of the woman in
charge of the cash-box, whereupon the other man
snatched it up, and the two hastily decamped. They
were followed, and their pursuers, after going a little
way, saw them in the distance dividing their spoil.
They took to their heels, and the more nimble of the
two made good his escape, the other one being caught.

The Recorder of Windsor at that time was Mr.
Skinner, Q.C. He was, I believe, rather a convicting
Judge, and perhaps it was necessary that he should
be, for, as I afterwards learnt (having to go to Windsor
on several occasions), the juries there were peculiar ones,
not unfrequently including among their number one
or two receivers of stolen goods.

On the day of the trial I arrived at Windsor at
about ten o'clock. As I was not likely to be wanted
much before noon, and as I was rather desirous of
visiting anew the haunts of my youth, I set out in
the direction of the "White Hart," where I resolved
to order some breakfast. I had not proceeded many
yards down the High Street, however, when I met

152 THE DETECTIVES AND THEIR PREY.

any number of London detectives, amongr them beincr

. ^ o o

Serjeants Cole and Chamberlaine, and two or three
inspectors of the Metropolitan and City police. I
thought their presence at Windsor rather odd ; but
I went in to breakfast without troubling my head
about the matter. On subsequently leaving the " White
Hart," and proceeding in the direction of the Town
Hall, I met some more of these servants of the law,
and, going up to one of the chief of them, said :
' What are all you men doing down here ? "

The officer, with a laugh, replied :

You're the cause, sir ; we've come about that man
you are going to defend for stealing the cash-box.
We've got him this time, and don't mean to let him
go. We can't imagine how he came to do this. It
isn't his line at all. We've been trying to catch him
for years, but never could manage it."

I became somewhat interested, and was anxious
for further particulars.

" Who is he ? " I asked ; and the officer replied :

'He's the one that finds the brains, and seldom

runs the risk. He is the architect of all the bio-

t>

burglaries and portico robberies that take place in the
metropolis and provinces. He's a wonderful man, and
when a place in the country has been spotted, he goes
down and carefully arranges all the plans for bringing
off the job. In fact, his is the head that directs. His
inferiors, who crack the crib, or mount the portico,
simply and solely carry out his instructions. He has

IX A LARGE WAY OF BUSINESS. 153

regular depots for tlie disposal of the gold, jewellery,
plate, etc., not only in this country, but also in
different parts of Holland. We know all these facts, and
others besides. It was he who planned Lady Margaret

's robbery ; you must remember it, sir, it's not

so very long ago — when thousands upon thousands
of pounds worth of jewellery were stolen. What beats
us, you know, is that he should have had anything
to do with a paltry thing like this — a matter of only
two or three hundred pounds ; but we've come to
the conclusion that he saw the cash-box in the morning,
and that the sight was too much for him. He was
out for a spree at the races, and I suppose he thought
he'd like to pay his exes."

I was very much interested and amused at what the
officer told me ; but, at this point, I had to leave him,
and proceed into Court. As the prisoner, who, by-the-
bye, was prosecuted by Mr. J. 0. Griffiths, entered the
Court to take his place in the dock, I saw a pleased
expression pass over his face, as he assured himself of
the arrival of the counsel he had chosen. The prisoner
was a quiet, fairly well-dressed man, not unlike the
sporting publican himself.

The case began at twelve o'clock, and occupied the
whole of the day. Now, I had made an appointment
for ten o'clock that night, in London, and though it was
not on business, it was one that I did not care to break.
It was soon apparent, however, that the case was going
to extend itself far into the evening. After the speeches

154 MY METHODS WITH THE JURY.

had been delivered on both sides, Skinner summed up,
and a more sweeping charge, I think, I never heard.
Nevertheless, it did not appear to have much effect
upon the jury.

An advocate who has had large experience (especially
if that experience has been in criminal cases), can pretty
well, when he has finished speaking, tell which way
most of the jury incline. It was a custom of mine to
try and make sure of two or three of the most likely
men first, and then to devote my attention to the
others. Sometimes one man in particular would
present special difficulties. It would be easy to see
that he had formed an opinion adverse to my client,
and was sitting there, resolved not to be influenced by
what I was saying. There was nothing for it but to
patiently hammer away. I found it was half the battle
to rouse him from his indifference, and to thoroughly
arrest his attention ; while, of course, if he once opened
his mouth to make an inquiry, and thus gave me an
opportunity of addressing myself directly to him, I
could usually count upon his allegiance. It was some-
times my experience, too, that, when it came to con-
sidering the verdict, one or two strong men would easily
carry their fellow-jurors along with them.

But all this is by the way. Skinner's summing-up
concluded shortly after six o'clock, and the foreman
asked permission for the jury to retire. The excite-
ment of the prisoner during the latter part of the
case had been intense. His mouth twitched nervously

MY CLIENT'S DISMAY AT MY DEPARTURE. 155

and he kept fidgeting with his hands ; and I felt it
was pretty certain that, if he got out of his present
scrape, he would be slow to risk being a second time
arrested.

The last train I could catch in order to reach
London by ten o'clock was one leaving Windsor at
about half-past eight. I told the solicitor who had
instructed me that, as it would be useless for me to
wait any longer, and as nothing remained for us to do
but to receive the verdict, I proposed to take my
departure and catch the train. He replied : " Well,
the prisoner will make a great fuss if you do. I
know he's set his mind entirely on you, and if you
go, I won't answer for what he'll do or say."

I replied :

" I really don't mind. I have performed my part
of the contract, and I'm going."

I was seated just underneath the jury-box (this
being my favourite place in all courts of justice), and
it so happened that I could not leave the building
without passing the dock. As I did so, the prisoner
caught me by the gown, and said, with evident
anxiety :

" You are not going, sir ! ''' Well, it is not cus-
tomary for counsel to speak to prisoners ; but there I
was — I had to say something.

" I am going," I replied ; " I've done all I can for
you, and I must be in town by ten o'clock."

" Good God, sir," said he, " don't desert me ; if you

15G TREATING THE POLICE TO CHAMPAGNE.

stay I know I shall win. I know what Mr. has

marked upon your brief — double the sum ! — treble !
if you'll only stay."

I need hardly say that I proved inflexible »
Hurrying from the Court, I unrobed, handed my bag
to my clerk, and just managed to catch the train as it
was moving out of the station.

The next morning I went as usual to the Central
Criminal Court. On entering the building, whom should
I encounter but two or three of the detectives I had
seen on the previous day at Windsor. They smiled
when they saw me, and one of them shook his head.
I called him over, and said : " Well, and what became
of that fellow I defended at Windsor yesterday ? "

"Oh," he replied, "you've done us, sir. The jury
didn't come back till eleven o'clock, and then they
brought it in 'Not Guilty.' We had to sleep at
Windsor all night, and we've only just come up.
Lor bless you, you should have seen that chap when
the verdict was given ! He was out of the dock and
in the streets in a twinkling. "When we got out, what
did he do but turn to us, and say : ' Come along. I
know what you were all here for ; but I don't bear no
malice. It's all right now, so let's go and have a bottle
or two of champagne.' Well, you know, sir," added
the officer, with a grin, " it was no use then. The man
was free, and, as we had to wait all night in Berkshire,
we accepted his offer, and he stood champagne all
round like a nobleman.'

EXPERIENCE TEACHES CAUTION. 157

To this day, I don't think that man has ever been
charged again ; in fact, I am sure he had not been up
to two years ago, when I ceased to practise ; for had
he once more fallen into the hands of the police, I am
sure that I should have been the first to hear of it.

CHAPTER XIII.

PAUPERTAS OXUS ET MISERUM ET GRAVE.

The Middlesex Sessions — An underpaid Judgeship — Poor prisoners
and their defence — Where thieves used to live, and where they
live now — An impudent little pickpocket I defended — East End
lodging-houses : a disgraceful state of things — Suggestions for
reform — Midnight rambles in the East End — How a friend and
I tried the effects of opium — The " Bridge of Sighs " — A woman
lying in the snow with a child in her arms— The poor creature's
desperate resolve — We take her to the refuge.

I HAD not been many years at the Bar before I did
more business than anybody else in defending prisoners
at the Middlesex Sessions. The Middlesex Sessions
were held at the Clerkenwell Session House, on Clerken-
well Green, and they were mainly for the trial of
quarter- session cases of the ordinary description, and
of appeals from the decisions of the metropolitan
magistrates. There were two sets of Sessions in

o

London — the Middlesex and the Surrey. The latter
were presided over by Mr. Hardman, the editor of
Tlie Morning Post, and a bench of unpaid magistrates ;
the former by Sir William Bodkin, who received a
salary of £1,500, and by a Deputy- Assistant Judge,

THE CLERKENWELL BAR. 159

who sat in the Second Court, and who was paid, as a
sort of journeyman, five guineas a day. The calendars
at Middlesex were very heavy, and the Sessions were
held once a fortnight. The list nearly always contained
the names of over a hundred prisoners ; thus, more
than two hundred were tried every month.

The position of Assistant Judge is an important
one, and, as I have always held, is exceedingly badly
paid. Sir Peter Edlin is the present Assistant Judge ;
and I observe from a report in the newspapers, that
the London County Council, under whom the Surrey
Sessions are now practically abolished, and Middlesex
and Surrey grouped together under the name of the
London County Sessions — have positively refused,
though the work has been almost doubled, to sanction
any increase of the salary. I am of opinion that it
is quite impossible to get a really good and strong
man to discharge the very onerous duties of the office
at the small stipend now attached to it.

The Clerkenwell Bar has turned out some very
good men, notably Serjeants Ballantine and Parry,
the present Lord Chancellor, and Mr. Poland, Q.C.;
Surrey can boast of Mr. Douglas Straight and Sir Edward
Clarke, who won his spurs as a leading advocate in
the Staunton case. A great many of the prisoners
at the London Sessions are not defended through the
intervention of a solicitor. Their friends — who of
course are usually very poor — instruct counsel by
either sending them, or handing them in Court, a

160 NEEDY PRISONERS AND THEIR DEFENCE.

copy of the depositions — that is, the evidence that
has been already taken before the magistrate. This
is called being instructed in person, and the depositions
are usually called " i.p.'s." I am afraid it would never
do to inquire too curiously as to where, in these cases,
the money comes from to instruct counsel. Very often,
in cases of pocket-picking, watch robberies, assaults
on the police, etc., the money represents the proceeds
of what are termed friendly "leads," or meetings.
The prisoner's friends hold an harmonic meeting at
some public-house, where a small subscription is raised
on his behalf. The printed invitations to this meet-
ing that are distributed in the neighbourhood where
the prisoner lives, are not drawn up in terms of absolute
frankness. It is not bluntly stated that So-and-So
is in prison, and in need of funds for his defence ;
reference is, instead, made to the unfortunate fact that,
having been incapacitated for work by breaking his
leg, or some accident of that description, he is in
financial difficulties.

In the early days of my career as an advocate,
a great many of the criminal classes were located in
the neighbourhood of Tothill Fields. Petty thieves,
and receivers of stolen property, mostly congregated
in Seven Dials. Those places have now been morally
disinfected ; the improvements there having swept away
nearly all the small lodging-houses. Of course, a large
proportion of the criminal classes always lived in
Whitechapel, Shoreditch, and the reighbouring dis-

LOKDON PICKPOCKETS. 1G1

tricts ; but, since the demolitions in the places to
which I have just alluded, our whole criminal popula-
tion seems to have concentrated itself in the East
End.

There is a peculiar look about the London pick-
pocket, whose portrait, by the way, Dickens drew
very accurately in describing Fagin's lads. He is
small in stature — his growth being stunted by drink,
and other causes — his hair is closely cropped (that
being a matter of necessity), and there is a sharp,
terrier-like look about his face. Such persons know
no difference between right and wrong ; at least, a
great many of them do not. They have, for the most
part, been brought up to thieving from their earliest
childhood, and, from the time they were twelve or
thirteen years of age, when they had, probably, already
undergone two or three short terms of imprisonment,
they have been at war with society.

I shall never forget my experiences in defending
one of these gentry in the Second Court at ClerkenwelL
On looking at the depositions handed to me, I believe
by one of his friends, I saw that the case was a
completely hopeless one. The prisoner was charged
with stealing a watch in the neighbourhood of Finsbury
Square. A man was standing there, his attention
engaged on something that was going on in the road-
way, when he felt a tug at his waistcoat, and, on
looking down, found that his watch was gone, and
that the broken end of his chain was hanging loosely

VOL. I. M

162 ACQUITTED AND JUBILANT.

from his button-hole. Beside him stood the prisoner,
whom he at once seized ; then, on looking down, he
saw his watch lying on the pavement. There were
several previous convictions against the accused, and,
if the result of the trial were antagonistic, it was
likely that the Judge would pass upon him a sentence
of five or seven years' penal servitude. After the jury
had been sworn, and the prisoner had pleaded, I
crossed over to the dock and strongly recommended
him to withdraw the plea he had just made, and
substitute one of "Guilty," promising to say what
I thought best for the purpose of mitigating his
punishment.

The little rascal was most indignant, and, turn-
ing to me, said: "Go on, go on; I want you to do
my case, and I beg you to do it, sir. I shall get out
of it. You'll win, I know you will. You've done
so twice before for me."

I was somewhat amused at the impudence of my
client, and returned to my seat, whereupon the trial
proceeded. In the end, the prisoner's anticipation
was realised, and he was acquitted. On hearing the
verdict he began to literally dance in the dock, and,
looking over to me, shouted out : "I told you so —
I told you so ! You never know what you can do till
you try ; " then, with a bow to the Judge, he skipped
down from his position and emerged into liberty.

I have always been of opinion that a great deal
of the crime of the metropolis — I mean crime of

EAST END 'DOSS HOUSES. 163

this description — is clue, in a great measure, to the
want of care that is taken of the poorer classes. What
is everybody's business seems to be nobody's business ;
and the lodging-houses, or what are termed "doss"

O O

houses, in the East End, are a disgrace to civilisation.
These places — which are most numerous in the Shore-
ditch, Whitechapel, and Commercial Road districts —
are simply and solely the hot-beds of crime. They
are pernicious in every respect. In the first place,
they are the home of the pickpocket and the ordinary
street thief, as distinguished from the burglar. The
last-named seldom resorts to them. To have any-
thing like a fixed place of abode, where his goings
and comings would be scrutinised, would indeed be
fatal to his enterprise, for he carries about with him
in his tools conclusive evidence of guilt. The ordinary
thieves, however, crowd these establishments, where
every little gossoon of fourteen or fifteen has his young
woman. In point of fact, these houses are nothing
more nor less than brothels. Those in the neighbour-
hood of Flower and Dean Street, Weymouth Street,
and the other alleys and byeways of Spitalfields,
often contain as many as one hundred and fifty beds,
half of them being what are termed " singles," and
half of them " doubles." The " singles," that is, beds
for single men, are let at fourpence a night ; the
"doubles," for male and female, at eightpence.

The rents paid for the buildings themselves by those
who farm them — some of whom are very well-to-do

M 2

164 SINKING LOWER AND LOWER.

persons, living at the West End, and utterly regardless
how their income is derived — are mostly very small ;
thus, crowded as these houses are every night of the year,
they represent a very remunerative investment. They
are pernicious in other respects, besides harbouring
thieves and prostitutes. Many a man sinks to the
lowest depths of poverty through no fault of his own.
Hard times come upon him, and one by one his
little possessions find their way to the pawn-shop.
The poor fellow clings desperately to his home ; but
that, too, he loses at last. The rent is not forth-
coming, and so he and his family are turned into
the streets. Where can they go ? Of course there
is the workhouse ; but so long as, by hook or by
crook, the man can find the means to pay for board
and lodging, to the workhouse he will not go. It
is very natural. Poor persons have feelings like their
more fortunate brethren, and the man knows that
the moment he throws himself upon the parish he will
be separated from his wife and children. There is
absolutely no alternative but the common lodging-
house, and the few coppers necessary to obtain a
bed there are usually to be obtained. Once under
the roof, the man is, to all intents and purposes,
caught in the vortex of crime. New to his sur-
roundings, and desperately eager to obtain food for
his family, he may glide at once, and almost imper-
ceptibly, into the dishonest practices of those about
him ; or — and this is perhaps more frequently the

THE EASY IIOAD TO CRIME. 165

case — he will resist the temptation for awhile, but
at last, in face of the sneers and jeers of his dis-
reputable companions, his moral courage will desert
him. On entering the common lodging - house, his
children, whose minds have perhaps previously been
pure and untainted, will be compelled to listen to oaths,
blasphemy, and all manner of filthy conversation. Nor
does the hardship stop here.

Parents are not permitted to allow their children
to live where bad characters assemble, and the rescue
officer from the Eeforrnatory and Refuge Union is
empowered to go into places of this description,
bring the children away from their parents, and take
them before a magistrate, who, in nine cases out of
ten, has no alternative but to send them to some in-
dustrial or reformatory school.

I have often discussed the question of these lodging-
houses with one who, by his position, is, perhaps,
better qualified than anybody else to understand their
true character. I will repeat the gist of his statements.

He said: "Mr. , whose experience has been very

large, thinks that the plan of a complete separation
of the sexes would be impracticable, or, if practicable,
would give rise to worse evils. He thinks that, if
enforced, it would lead to an extension of the fur-
nished-room system, which occasions more shameful im-
morality than is possible even in the common lodging-
houses. When a search was recently being made
through AVhitechapel and Spitalfields, in connection

166 A DISGRACEFUL STATE OF THINGS.

with the and murders, a constable told me that

he said to a man named (a registered lodging-house

keeper, and owner, or leaseholder, of furnished rooms in
Great Pearle Street) : ' Do you know that all the
women in your furnished rooms are street-walkers ? '
whereupon the answer was : ' I don't care what they
are so long as they bring me in my money.'

"The rooms are said to be let and sub-let, and women
lead immoral lives there often in the presence of children.
The rooms are let to any who want them — sometimes
to boys and girls of sixteen and seventeen years of
a^e, and under. The furnished rooms are under no

O 7

supervision, and they are virtually places of ill-fame.
They are to be found in Flower and Dean Street,
Thrawl Street, and Great Pearle Street, at the East
End ; in St. Clement's Eoad, Bangor Street, and St.
Catherine's Eoad, at Netting Hill ; and in Macklin
Street, Shelton Street, and Parker Street, at Drury
Lane. The three thoroughfares last named, however, I
should state, will shortly be demolished."

I replied :

" You tell me of a disease, or an aggravation of a
disease, of the existence of which I was already well
aware. You have had the greatest experience of any-
body in the metropolis in these matters, and I should
therefore like you to tell me what remedy you would
propose to adopt."

The answer was : " What seems to be necessary is a
separation of the houses into classes. There should first

SUGGESTED REFORMS. 167

be houses for single men, of which class the Victoria

O *

Home, in Commercial Street, from which known bad
characters are excluded, is a good example. There are
a very large number of dock labourers, and others,
plunged into the depths of poverty, who would find these
houses a suitable asylum. I am bound to say that some
occupiers of houses try to keep order ; but the pro-
prietors, many of whom are Jews, insist upon the beds
being let. Their reply to every remonstrance, is :
' Have respectable people if you can ; but let the

beds.' '

My informant expressed the opinion that, in Spital-
fields, there was room for a couple more houses like the
Victoria Home, each accommodating two hundred men.
He suggested that a pensioned policeman, from the H
Division by preference, should be appointed as " deputy ''

or manager.

" As you are aware, sir," he continued, " the
registered lodging-houses at present in existence, are
under the supervision of a man and his wife, or of a
woman only, such persons being, in many instances, con-
victed thieves. It is not the business of the ordinary
policeman to visit these houses, save and except when he
is in pursuit of a criminal. In the whole Whitechapel
district there are but one or two 'lodging-house sergeants/
that is, officers who have the sole right of visiting these
places, each of which, therefore, is inspected only about
once a week. In my plan, gross behaviour on the part of
any lodger would ensure his prompt ejection. Life would

168 THE POLICE TONGUE-TIED.

thus be tolerable to those who are merely the victims of
misfortune. The second class of houses that I would
establish would be for sino-le women. Two houses, each

O *

with one hundred beds, would, I think, suffice for
the Whitechapel district. They would shelter char-
women, factory women, laundresses, flower-girls, etc. ;
known prostitutes and thieves being rigidly excluded.
Such houses should close not later than twelve o'clock ;
the places at present in existence being open practically
all night. The third class of houses would be for
married couples. The existing houses for the accommo-
dation of man and wife are of the vilest possible de-
scription, bloodshed being of constant occurrence there.

"A house at the corner of George Street and Tkrawl
Street is a horrible den. Every policeman knows it, but
never ventures to enter it, and, under the present
system, he would in all probability be reprimanded if he
attempted to report it. Besides, constables, after a long
day's work, do not like reporting. There is no doubt
that the present mixture of single men and single
women with married couples is an incitement to vice.
A single woman plies her trade, selling matches, flowers,
fruit, etc. ; her earnings get her bread, perhaps, or beer,
but frequently she has no lodging-money. What follows
under the present system is obvious. The proprietors
of the houses should, in my opinion, be licensed, and
their license withdrawn upon any act of flagrant impro-
priety being proved against them. I do not say that
this idea of mine would in any way diminish the

STREET IMPROVEMENTS. 169

number of the criminal classes. They would remain.
The filthy would be filthy still ; the thieves would still
be thieves. But here is where the advantage would come
in — they would no longer have the power to corrupt
others. Flower and Dean Street, Thrawl Street, Fashion
Street, and Wentworth Street all want widening. They
need to be intersected by an improved George Street, and
it is greatly to be desired that they should all be well
lighted and well patrolled. This would diminish crime.
Every lodging-house keeper should be quite free from
the suspicion of being a receiver of stolen property. At
present any one who conforms to sanitary regulations-
clean beds, walls, floors, etc. — can get and keep a
license."

Of course my informant's experience has been far
greater than mine, but I entirely agree with everything
he says. For years, when at the Bar, it was my custom,
every now and then, to pay a nocturnal visit to the
haunts of the criminal classes in the East End. I was
never interfered with. Sometimes, by permission, I was
accompanied by a member of the police force in plain,
clothes, but frequently I went alone.

One day I and a friend, attended by a constable,
embarked on an expedition of this kind, during which
we were the means, I think, of saving a human life,
We visited, some time before twelve o'clock, the
different dancing-houses and gin-palaces in Blue Gate
Fields and its neighbourhood : thence we went to the

O *

small lane in which the Chinese opium-smokers mostly

170 VISITING THE EAST END AT NIGHT.

congregate. Here we tried the effect of the strange
drug, though, as I need hardly say, only to a small
extent. We then proceeded to the refuges of the
district ; places where, up to, I think, one o'clock in the
morning, the casual can, under certain circumstances,
obtain admission. He gets his bed — such as it is — and
his breakfast — some bread and water, I think — for
which, before he leaves in the morning, he has to do a
certain amount of work, such as stone-breaking or
wood-chopping.

It was a bitterly cold night, and shortly after two it
came on to snow violently. "We were about to visit the

•/

last of the refuges, and our way took us to a bridge
going over part of the docks, where, as I afterwards
learnt, the water was some forty or fifty feet deep.
The bridge itself is known by the suggestive name of
the " Bridge of Sighs," on account of the number of
suicides that take place there. It is now, I believe,
always guarded by a policeman on what is termed
"fixed point" duty.

When we were some little way from the bridge, the
officer accompanying us noticed something that had
escaped our attention. It was a dark bundle lying in
the snow. He drew forth his lantern, or struck a light
— I forget which — and we then discovered that the
bundle consisted of two human beings, a woman and a
child. The mother had done all she could to keep the
bitter, numbing cold from her infant. She had divested
herself of her shawl, which must have served the double

THE OUTCASTS IN THE SNOW. 171

purpose of bonnet and wrap, and had folded it around
the child. The woman was very poorly clad, but
apparently respectable, and the child was scrupulously
clean and neatly dressed. The woman told us that she
had been turned out of her home ; that she had no-
where to go to, and no one to help her ; and that she
had determined to go the road so many had traversed
before her, and, with one final plunge, end her own and
her child's misery. She had, however, sunk down just
before she reached the Bridge of Sighs, the snow had
come on, and her child had fallen asleep.

At this hour in the morning, what on earth was
to be done ? There seemed no chance of finding
shelter for the poor creatures. We three, though well
wrapped up, were half frozen with the cold ; what,
then, must the poor woman and her child be suffering !

I suggested to the officer that we should take the

*— • CD

woman to the refuge ; but his answer was : " I wouldn't
do that, sir, if I were you. The master of the refuge
is a rather peculiar man. It is now over an hour
past the receiving time, and if you insisted upon his
taking the woman ;: (and here the officer spoke with
a touch of genuine feeling) " I think it would be the
worst for her, poor thing ! "

We were not to be alarmed by this, and we
managed to assist the poor woman and her child to
the refuge. Though I told the man in authority who
I was, he positively refused to take the poor creatures
in. It was against orders, he explained. I told him

172 OVERCOMING OFFICIAL SCRUPLES.

that I would be responsible for the consequences, and
made an entry to that effect in his book. At this
he showed some signs of compliance ; but what turned
the scale was my announcement that my companion
was an earl, and intimately connected with the Local
Government Board.

The woman and child were admitted ; and early
next morning, before I proceeded to my legal duties,
my friend and I again visited the refuge, and made
inquiries into the case that we had assisted. We
found that the woman had done all she 'could to
keep herself respectable, and that the story she had
told us on the previous night was, in the main, perfectly
true. In the end, I believe, we succeeded in being
of some permanent benefit to her.

CHAPTER XIV.

INGRATO HOMING TERRA PEJUS NIL CREAT.

An amusing case at Bristol — Strange threat of a butcher — Ballantine
makes a mistake — The long retirement of the jury — The butcher
found to be tattered and bleeding — A cruel murder — The ragged
wayfarer and the kind-hearted widow — She accedes to his prayer
for a night's lodging — He becomes her manager and collects her
rents — A description of the crime — The man is acquitted —
He afterwards boasts of his guilt.

IN 1867, I was engaged in a case out of which some
amusing incidents arose. A number of persons were
committed for trial, by the Bristol Bench, for having
taken part in riots during the recent Parliamentary
election in the borough. Several London counsel
were engaged, both on the Conservative and the Liberal
side, among the number being Serjeant Ballantiue,
Arthur Collins, Mr. Ribton, and myself. The principal
defendant was a solicitor named Watkins, who wras
charged with being the ringleader of a portion of
the insurgents.

Ballantine and myself were engaged upon the
Conservative side ; a circumstance showing how little

174 BALLANTIXE AND THE BUTCHER.

politics had to do witli the choice of counsel,

Ballantine being, at that time, an advanced Liberal.

Serjeant Kinglake, the Recorder of the borough,

tried the case, and the Court was densely crowded,

*/ *

the number of ladies preponderating.

In consultation, the Conservative agent, who in-
structed us for the defence, stated that there lived
in the district a certain butcher of strong Liberal
sympathies, who had been heard to declare that,
somehow or another, he would get sworn upon the
jury and then have a leg cut off rather than acquit
Watkins. The Conservative agent duly informed us
of this person's name.

The hour for the trial to commence arrived, and
the clerk proceeded to read over the jury list. To
our disgust, one of the names he called out wras that

O

of the butcher.

Ballantine was for once caught napping. Starting
to his feet he cried, " Challenge ! '

Of course, in a case of felony, counsel may object
to a juryman, but this cannot be done in a case of
misdemeanour.

The Recorder pointed out the slip that Ballantiue
had made, and my leader was somewhat disconcerted,
for he realised that, in challenging the butcher, he
had probably only intensified that worthy's hostility.
However, the Serjeant quickly recovered his equanimity,
and with a smile on his face, said :

" I really quite forgot ; but no matter. I am sure

AN ENGLISHMAN'S EIGHTS. 175

that when I make the statement I am about to make,
the gentleman to whom I was about to object will
have too much good feeling to remain and act as
one of the judges of the case, but will at once retire
from the box." Ballantine then stated to the Court
the facts that had been made known to us. Instead,
however, of the butcher assuming the lamb-like de-
meanour that my learned friend had apparently antici-
pated, he sat very tightly in the box, and said :

" I shan't budsje an inch. I never said what has

o

been attributed to me ; and if I had said it, I stand
upon my rights as an Englishman. I've a right to
serve on the jury, and on the jury I'll serve."

I believe the Judge had no power to interfere ; at
least, if he had, he did not exercise it. He simply
said :

" You hear, brother. I must rely, and so must you,
upon this gentleman's good sense, and the obligation
that he attaches to an oath."

The jurymen were then duly sworn, and the case
proceeded. It lasted for two days. The evidence,
as usual in such cases, was very conflicting. A number
of the witnesses for the prosecution identified our client
as " the man on the white horse," who had led on the
rioters and incited them to demolish a number of
buildings in the town, with cries of " Give them Bristol

O *

Bridge" — the phrase having reference to certain poli-
tical riots that had taken place in Bristol many years
before, when a bridge was destroyed, and its bricks

176 WAITING FOR A VERDICT.

used as missiles. We called a number of witnesses
who swore that Watkins was not the man who led
the rioters, some of them indeed deposing that he was
in a totally different part of the borough at the time
the disturbance took place.

At about six o'clock on the second day, the jury
retired to consider their verdict. The Court of Bristol
is a very handsome one, and furnished with many
conveniences unknown elsewhere. "When a jury are
unable to agree, they are taken to a room in the upper
part of the building, which room opens into a little
gallery in the Court-house. Thus they are able to
communicate with the bench without coming downstairs.
Several hours went by, and the jury did not appear.
At about ten o'clock the Recorder sent a messenger
to them, asking if they had agreed upon their verdict.
They came out into the gallery, and stated that they
had not agreed upon a verdict, and that there seemed
very little likelihood of their being able to do so. King-
lake was a very firm man, and he was determined that
the borough should not be put to the expense of a
second trial. He therefore informed the jury that
he should use every means in his power to compel
them to come to some conclusion, adding :

" It is, at any rate, my present purpose to keep
you locked up there for the night. I will return to
the Court at one in the morning ; and, in the meantime,
I must ask the counsel on both sides to delegate, at any
rate, one of their number to be present when I arrive."

A JURYMAN TATTERED AND BLEEDING. 177

We were all of us very anxious about the result,
and so we resolved to go back to the hotel on Castle
Green, dine — for we had had nothing to eat since
luncheon — and return in a body at one o'clock. We
did so, and the jury were again brought into Court, but
with the same result as before. Upon this, the Recorder
stated that he proposed to go back to his room in
Court, and remain there until a verdict was returned.
Ballantine repaired to the hotel to get some sleep,
while I, and one of the other juniors, remained on guard

At about four o'clock, when we were all more asleep
than awake, the usher was roused from his semi-
comatose condition, and sent for to the jury-room.
Presently he returned with the news that the jury had
agreed upon a verdict. The information was communi-
cated to the Recorder, who hastily robed, and returned
to the judgment seat.

When the names of the jury were read over, only
eleven answered. The Recorder said : " One juryman
has not responded." It was our friend the butcher.
His name was called out a second time, whereupon a
feeble voice answered : " Here." The Judge, who, I
have no doubt, guessed pretty accurately what had
occurred, did not look towards the jury-box. It is per-
haps as well that he did not. I did, and I never saw
such an extraordinary-looking object as the butcher.
His coat and waistcoat were torn from his back ; his
very shirt-sleeves were tattered ; and his face was
besmeared with blood. The reader can pretty well

VOL. I, X

178 THE GOOD-NATUEED WIDOW AND THE TRAMP.

guess what had happened. There had all along been a
strong nicajority against the butcher; and the twelve
men were now unanimous in returning a verdict of
"Not Guilty."

It was during that same year that I obtained a
verdict in the country which I have always regretted.
It was in a trial for murder which took place on the
Midland Circuit, I being specially retained to conduct
the defence. The murder has always seemed to me to
be the most cruel and heartless one in my experience.

Some five-ancl- twenty miles from the Assize town,
where the trial took place, stood a public-house kept by
a widow. She was a great favourite in the neighbour-
hood, and was frequently engaged in charitable offices.
It was well known that she possessed a snug little in-
come, for, besides the public-house, she owned several
small cottages in the neighbourhood, having purchased
them out of her savings. She was a comely, buxom
woman of about forty years of age.

One winter's night, as she was sitting in her bar-
parlour, a tramp — a poor, broken-down, wretched-looking
man — appeared in the doorway and besought assistance.
He said that he was starving, having tasted neither bit
nor sup for days ; and this tale so worked upon the
feelings of the good-natured widow, that she gave him
some meat and beer. It was bitterly cold, and the man,
when he had finished his meal, implored the additional
favour of sleeping accommodation for the night. He
should be only too grateful, he said, for permission to lie

A COLD-BLOODED MURDER, 179

in the stable, or one of the outhouses. It was not in the
nature of the good woman to refuse a kindness of this
description, and she granted the man's request. The
next morning, she inquired still further into her visitor's
history and condition, and, being moved by the dis-
tressing story he told her, she agreed to let him stay on
as a handy man about the house.

That there grew to be a more intimate relation
between the parties cannot be doubted. In time, he
who had been a wayfarer and an outcast, became the
manager of the little public-house, in which capacity
he was, to all appearances, a most respectable man,
his life being apparently a happy and prosperous one.
It was part of the manager's duty to go round to
the cottages and collect the rents for his mistress,
who herself subsequently banked the money. On
a certain quarter-day, he took out the horse and cart,
and started off to pay his customary visit to the
cottages. They were some distance away, and it was
not possible for him to return until late at night.
All the other inmates of the public-house went to bed ;
but the landlady herself sat up in order to give
her manager some supper when he returned.

Next morning the little bar-parlour presented a
horrible spectacle. The corpse of the widow lay on
the ground, beside the fireplace, in a pool of blood.
The head was literally severed from the body. The
drawers, the cash-box, and the till had been rifled,
and everything of value that had been in the room

N 2

180 ACQUITTED BUT GUILTY.

had been stolen. Beneath the woman's body was a
frying-pan, in which were some half-cooked sausages.
It was apparent that the poor creature had been
preparing the man's supper when she had been attacked
from behind ; and there seemed little doubt that the
bill-hook found in the yard was the instrument with
which the murder had been committed.

Circumstances pointed to the manager as the author
of the outrage, and he was duly arrested and put upon
his trial, I being, as already indicated, retained for
the defence. A quantity of evidence was taken, and
in the end my client was acquitted. That same night,
after drinking heavily, he passed down the High
Street of the town, and, holding out his right hand,
exclaimed :

<{ My counsel got me off, but this is the hand that
did the deed."

Of course a man cannot be tried twice for the
same offence, and, to my perpetual regret, this ruffian
remained at large.

CHAPTER XV.

PRO PATRIA XOX TIMIDUS MORI.

The Clerkenwell explosion — How it originated, and why it failed —
The accused and their counsel — A description of the prisoners —
Evidence of the informers — A letter in invisible ink — Incidents
subsequent to the explosion — Further evidence — The warders in
the witness-box — Acquittal of Ann Justice — A moving scene-
Mr. Baker Greene's witnesses — Barrett's demeanour — The crowd
in Court — Constant attendance of ladies — Retirement of the
jury — Excitement inside and outside the Court.

IN the afternoon of the 13th of December, 1867, the
Clerkenwell explosion took place. Two men — Burke
and Casey by name — were confined in the House of
Detention on a charge of treason-felony, and a plot was
formed among the Fenians of London and Manchester
to liberate them. A barrel of gunpowder was placed
against the prison wall and exploded. The effects were
deplorable. Many houses in Corporation Lane were
shattered, four persons were killed on the spot, and
about forty others were maimed and otherwise wounded,
in some cases fatally. A large proportion of the victims
were women and children, and all were of the poorer
classes. A wide breach was made in the prison wall,

182 THE ACCUSED.

but those whom it was intended to rescue did not have
the opportunity of escaping. The truth is, in this, as
in so many similar plots, a whisper had gone abroad
that mischief was brewing, and on the day of the ex-
plosion Burke and Casey had not been permitted to
take their exercise in the usual manner.

Five men and a woman were arrested and tried for
participation in the outrage. The names of the accused
were William Desmond, Timothy Desmond, John O'Keefe,
Nicholas English, Michael Barrett, and Ann Justice.
They were charged with the wilful murder of Sarah
Ann Hodgkinson — one of those killed by the explosion
—and the trial took place before Lord Chief Justice
Cockburn, sitting with Mr. Baron Bramwell. The
counsel for the Crown were the Attorney-General, the
Solicitor - General, Mr. Hardinge - Giffard, Q.C., Mr.
Poland, and Mr. Archibald (then Attorney-General's
" devil," and subsequently a Judge). William Desmond
was defended by Mr. Warner Sleigh ; Timothy Desmond
by Mr. Straight ; English by Mr. Keogh ; O'Keefe and
Ann Justice by myself; and Barrett by Mr. Baker
Greene. The trial was opened on Monday, April the
20th, 1868, and it occupied the five following days.

To judge by the appearance of the prisoners, the
Fenian movement must have been at a somewhat low
ebb at that time. With the exception of Barrett, the
accused seemed to be in a state of extreme povert}*.
That there was not much money behind them may be
inferred from the list I have given of the counsel

BARRETT'S APPEARANCE. 183

employed on their behalf. Nearly all were very junior
members of the bar, and they stood in marked contrast
with the brilliant array of talent on the other side.

The two Desmonds and English were, I think,
tailors. They were very poorly clad, and miserable
creatures to look upon. O'Keefe was of a somewhat
better type. The woman, Ann Justice, who appeared
to be from forty to forty-five years of age, was poorly
dressed and plain-looking.

On looking at the dock, one's attention was princi-
pally attracted by the appearance of Barrett, for whom
I must confess I subsequently felt great commiseration.
He was a square-built fellow, scarcely five feet eight
in height, and dressed something like a well-to-do
farmer. The resemblance was certainly increased by
the frank, open expression of his face. A less murderous
countenance than Barrett's, indeed, I do not remember
to have seen. Good-humour was latent in every feature.
He took the greatest interest in the proceedings.

The principal witnesses against the prisoners were
accomplices. After the surveyor had sworn to the
correctness of the plans, and the doctor had given
evidence as to the injuries sustained by the deceased,
the informers were at once put into the box. The
first was a man named Patrick Mullany, who described
himself as a military tailor. Tailor — yes ; but any one
less military I never saw. In fact, both he and his
fellow — a man named James Vaughan — were half-
starved looking creatures, and well qualified, so far

184 EVIDENCE OF THE INFORMERS.

as appearance went, to fill the role of the Apothecary in
Romeo and Juliet. Th.3 only time I saw Barrett's face
change was during the examination of the informers ;
and the look of disgust, scorn, and hatred that he
turned upon those two miserable creatures was a thing
to be remembered.

The substance of the evidence given by Mullany
and Vaughan may be briefly stated.

They deposed that, fifteen or sixteen months previous
to the explosion, they had been sworn in as members of
the Fenian Brotherhood — an organisation having for its

d/ ^^

object the overthrow of English rule in Ireland, and
the establishment there of a Republic. Mullany de-
clared that he had been sworn in as a centre, and that
the prisoner, Nicholas English, was present at the time,
and introduced him to a man named James Kelly.
Each centre, the witness said, had nine " B's " under
him, and each " B " commanded nine men. During the
ceremony of swearing-in, the conversation principally
turned on the way men were to be conveyed to Ireland,
and the best method of raising money to purchase arms,
and to send men into the volunteers.

The witness went on to say that he knew William
Desmond, Timothy Desmond, and O'Keefe, having met
them in a public - house at the corner of Seymour
Street, Pulteney Street. He had also, he said, known
Burke — one of the men whose escape had been planned
— since the April of 1867. Soon after the arrest of
Burke, who was a Eenian and an American officer, the

A COMPROMISING LETTER. 185

witness saw Barrett at his own house, in company with
a man named Captain Murphy, who had taken a leading
part in the Fenian movement. Barrett, who passed by
the name of Jackson, remarked that he had eight
revolvers in his bag, and that he had come over " to
do something for poor Burke," and, as he spoke, he
opened his bag and exposed to view some revolvers
and ammunition. A conversation took place — so the
witness said — as to where a barrel of gunpowder could
be procured, and as to the best way of getting Burke
out of the House of Detention. Mullany went on to
speak about a letter that had been produced at William
Desmond's house, and which, so far as he could re-
member, ran as follows : " Dear Friend, — You know
my position here. You know how I am situated here.
There is a house here called the ' Noted Stout House '
(it was explained that this was the name of a public-
house), " and at that house there is a sewer and a weak
part of the wall. If you get a barrel of gunpowder
and place it there, you will be able to blow the wall
to hel]. Get the men to buy it in small quantities.
The job must be done, and done at 3.30 or 4 o'clock.
If you do not do this, you ought to be shot."

Touching this letter, the witness said that it had

O *

been destroyed, and that it had been written in in-
visible ink. Some water had been procured in a
teacup, and by the aid of this and some copperas,
writino- of a brown and burnt-like condition had been

o

revealed. There were, Mullany declared, three phrases

186 THE CONSPIRATORS' PLANS.

in the letter underlined : " the ' Noted Stout House,' '
" a sewer," and " weak part of the wall." He said
that when the letter was produced, English, Murphy,
William Desmond, and twelve or fifteen others were
present. The letter having been inspected, a question/
it appears, arose as to how the money should be ob-
tained for the purchase of the gunpowder, and some
men offered to contribute £1, some 12s., and some
10s. for the purpose.

" At this time," said Mullany, " I was out of
work, owing to the tailors' strike." He went on to
describe a number of meetings which all the prisoners
attended, and at which the contemplated explosion
was discussed. Subsequently he learnt from Murphy
that the gunpowder had been procured. The question
of how a truck could be obtained for carrying it was
next discussed, and the following arrangements were
ultimately made : A meeting was to be held at twelve
o'clock, on the 13th of December, at the Desmonds'
house ; the conspirators were to go thence, in two
companies, to the scene of operations ; a man named
Felix was to supply a tundish, or funnel, for carrying
the fuse ; all were to meet at the House of Detention
at half-past three o'clock. Mullany added — presumably
to save his neck — that he himself was not actually
present when the explosion took place. As lie
said this, a smile, which was not wholly amiable, broke
out on the face of Barrett, and I think that if the
prisoner could have got at the witness at that moment

WHY HE TURNED QUEEN'S EVIDENCE. 187

the latter would have fared badly. The explosion was
originally intended to take place on the 12th; but
it was found advisable to postpone it until the follow-
ing day.

The concluding portion of Mullany's evidence had
reference to events that took place after the outrage.
He said that on the evening of the 13th, he saw
Barrett at the corner of Glasshouse Street. Up to
that time Barrett had worn whiskers and beard joined ;
but now his whiskers were gone. Mullany continued :
"I chaffed him about his whiskers being off, and he
said, ' Don't speak so loud ; it was I who fired the
barrel.' I then asked who was with him at the time,
and he said that Murphy was with him, and that
he had taken off his whiskers for fear of identification."
Mullany added that he did not see Barrett again
until he saw him before Sir Thomas Henry at Bow
Street Police Court. The witness next said that he
himself had been arrested on the Thursday after the
explosion, on the charge of treason-felony, and that
he had then determined to turn Queen's evidence, and
to give his testimony against the accused.

Mullany was subjected to a long cross-examination
by the counsel for the Desmonds, Barrett, and English,
and, when asked if he expected to get punished him-
self, answered : " I don't know ; I am the property
of the English Crown," a remark that seemed to amuse
Barrett hugely. He added that he had informed to
save himself for the sake of his family.

188 THE NEWSPAPER PLACARD.

Vaughan's evidence was to pretty much the same
effect as Mullany's. He, however, gave a few addi-
tional particulars. He said that after the explosion
he had a conversation with English, who said : '' For
God's sake, James, get as much money as you can,
as we want to send them away." He replied : " Send
who away?" and English said: "Why, those who
have blown up the House of Detention." They were
standing outside a newsvendor's shop at which a
newspaper bill was exposed, with the line "Diabolical
Outrage" upon it. English said: "Yes, it was dia-
bolical, and we will burn the whole of London yet,
and that will be more diabolical." Vaughan also gave
some important evidence against O'Keefe.

Cross-examined by me, the witness admitted that
he had been in the army, and that, after being tried
by court-martial, he had been reduced to the ranks
from the position of corporal. He further admitted
that, since he had turned Queen's evidence, he had
been receiving payment from the police ; that he had
no other means of subsistence ; that he had determined
to turn Queen's evidence on seeing a placard offering
a reward to any one who would give information ;
that he put himself in communication with the
authorities three hours after reading the placard ; and
that he expected to get a portion of the reward if the
men were convicted.

Several other witnesses were called, who deposed
to seeing the various prisoners at different times, prior

SIGNALLING FROM THE PRISON. 189

to the explosion, in the immediate neighbourhood of
the House of Detention, the bulk of the evidence
being directed against Barrett.

One of the witnesses positively swore that he saw
Timothy Desmond, in company with O'Keefe, wheel
the truck carrying the barrel of powder to the prison
wall, on the day of the explosion.

The prison-warders were among those who gave evi-
dence. They deposed that upon the day of the outrage,
all the prisoners were taken out to exercise at a quarter
to three. The prisoners formed themselves into two
rings, and Burke occupied a position on the outer ring.

A warder named Maskell said that he saw Burke
fall out of the ranks near the wall, take off one of
his side-spring boots, wipe his foot with his stocking
(looking up as he did so at a house in Corporation
Lane), then put on his boot again and rejoin the
others. All this, the warder added, was done very
slowly, and shortly afterwards the explosion took place.
Evidence was also given that at noon on the 13th,
Ann Justice came to see Casey at the House of
Detention, stating that she was his aunt. She was
accompanied by a Mrs. Barry, who represented herself
as Casey's sister. They left between one and two
o'clock. At ten minutes to three that afternoon, Ann
Justice was seen with Timothy Desmond close to
the prison wall. Immediately after the explosion she
was again seen — in company with Timothy Desmond
— running away from the scene of the outrage.

190 THE INVISIBLE INK.

An important piece of evidence was given by
another warder. He said that he was in the prison-
yard shortly before the explosion, and saw an india-
rubber ball corne over the wall. It was proved that,
shortly before the explosion, the prisoner Burke was
searched, with the result that a glass tube and ball
were found in his possession. The ball held a liquid
which, on being analysed by Dr. AVilliam Odling, the
celebrated chemist, was found to contain crystals
which, when dissolved in water, possessed the quality
of making impressions that would remain invisible
until copperas, or one of several other chemicals, was
applied to it.

A number of witnesses were called to corroborate the
evidence of the informer. They deposed to seeing, on
various occasions, Mullany and Vaughan in company
with the various male prisoners. In order to prove that
Burke was a Fenian, a third informer, with the pastoral
name of John Joseph Corridon, was put into the box.
He described himself as having been an officer in the
Federal army of the United States. Burke, he said,
had also been in the American army, under the name of
"Winslow, and they had been well acquainted. Burke
had been a Captain in the 15th New York Engineers.
The witness swore that Burke was a Fenian.

The visitor's book of the prison was produced, and
from this it was seen that, as alleged, Ann Justice had
been among those who had visited Casey.

This closed the case for the prosecution. I sub-

A MOVING SCENE. 191

mitted to the Court, on behalf of Aim Justice, that
there was no case to go to the jury, whatever suspicions
might exist as to her knowledge of the Fenian con-
federacy, and of her having been a member thereof.
There was, I pointed out, no actual evidence that she
took part in the proceedings which caused the death of
Ann Hodgkinson.

After a consultation with Baron Bramwell, lasting
some eight or ten minutes, the Chief Justice replied that
their lordships could not say that there was no evidence
against the woman, but they held that the evidence
against her was slight. Upon this the Attorney- General
conferred with the counsel associated with him, and then
said that, after his lordship's observations, he and his
learned friends had determined to withdraw the case as
against Ann Justice, and were willing that, so far as she

o * o

was concerned, a verdict of acquittal should be taken at
once. Under the direction of the Court, the jury then
returned a verdict of "Not Guilty' as against Ann
Justice ; and here occurred a very touching incident. The
female warder signified to her that she might go. Ann
Justice rose to leave the dock ; but before she went down
the stairs leading to Newgate (for all prisoners, on being
acquitted, had to go back to the goal to be formally
discharged), she turned round to where Barrett was
sitting, seized him by the hand, and, with two large
tears rolling down her cheeks, kissed him gently on the
forehead. Then she hurried away. This was not a very
judicious proceeding, perhaps — but how like a woman !

192 UNSATISFACTORY IRISH WITNESSES.

The counsel for the other prisoners next addressed
the Court.

Mr. Baker Greene on behalf of Barrett, intimated
that after his opening speech for the prisoner, he
intended calling witnesses for the defence. As a
matter of fact, it makes little difference what procedure
is adopted, for the Attorney-General, or any other
officer of the Crown, when conducting a prosecution,
has, by virtue of his position, the right to reply. The
speeches over, Mr. Greene proceeded to call his witnesses.
They were Irishmen, and their evidence, which was of a
very weak character, was intended to show that Barrett
was not in the neighbourhood of the House of Detention
when the explosion took place. On being cross-exa-
mined by the Attorney-General, each of these witnesses
cut a very sorry figure.

During the whole of the trial, save when the
approvers were in the box, the countenance of Barrett
never changed. From the time that he entered the
dock, to the hour for adjournment — which did not come
on until late in the evening — he maintained the same
cheery demeanour. Occasionally he handed pieces of
paper to his counsel.

On Monday, 27th of April, the Attorney-General
rose to reply, and he did not conclude his speech
until three o'clock in the afternoon. The Lord Chief
Justice, in his usual exhaustive style, then summed
up the case to the jury.

I may mention that never, before or since, have

PUBLIC EXCITEMENT. 193

I seen a Court of Justice so crowded as during this

O

trial. The audience consisted for the most part of
ladies. They came into Court as early as nine o'clock
in the morning, and stayed until late in the evening,
occupying their seats every day of the trial. I am
bound to say that their interest principally centred
upon Barrett.

When the jury retired to consider their verdict,
the greatest excitement prevailed. For hours past, the
only sound that had been heard was the voice of
the Judge ; now every tongue seemed to be loosened,
and a babel arose. The large Court was crowded to
suffocation. Even the passages leading into it were
completely blocked with people, and, above the uproar
of voices, one could plainly hear the distant hum that
arose from the great crowd assembled outside Newgate,
eager to learn the verdict.

VOL. I. 0

CHAPTER XVI.

QUIS TALIA FANDO TEMPERET A LACRIMIS 1

Keturn of the jury — -An exciting moment — Barrett found guilty—
The Judge's interrogation— Barrett replies, but is interrupted
by his lordship — The prisoner receives permission to address
the Court — -Text of his speech — Some eloquent passages— His
analysis of the evidence — Mullany, the "Prince of Perjurers"
Manly references to his impending doom — -A. moving peroration
• — The effect produced upon his hearers : not a dry eye in Court
• — The leading article in The Daily Telegraph — The issue pro-
nounced unsatisfactory.

THE jury returned into Court after a long delibera-
tion. The foreman, who led the way, was deadly
pale. Having regard to the agitated condition of all
the jurymen, it was clear that either one or more of
the prisoners had been convicted. The names of the
jurors were called over by Mr. Avory, the Clerk of
Arraigns, amid a breathless silence ; and upon the fore-
man beino; asked whether a verdict had been agreed

O O

upon, he answered in a low voice : " Yes." " Do you
find William Desmond guilty of the wilful murder of
Ann Hodffkinson ? " the Clerk asked : and the answer

o

was : "Not Guilty." "Do you find Timothy Desmond

"GUILTY!" 195

guilty of the same murder ? " " Not Guilty." "Do you
find John O'Keefe guilty of the said murder?" "Not
Guilty." "Do you find Nicholas English guilty?"
" Not Guilty." " Do you find Michael Barrett guilty ? "
Here all in Court seemed to hold their breath to hear
the foreman's reply. In an almost inaudible voice, he
answered : " Guilty."

The Lord Chief Justice communicated for a moment
with the Clerk of Arraigns, who went through the usual
formula. Then the other prisoners were removed, and
the Clerk, addressing the sole occupant of the dock,
said : " Michael Barrett, you have been found guilty
of the wilful murder of Ann Hodgkinson. Have you
anything to say why sentence of death should not
be passed upon you in due form ? ;:

The prisoner, who was standing with his hands in
front of the dock (and most remarkable hands they
were, beautifully rounded, and almost like a woman's),
said : " Yes, my lord, I should like to say a few
words before your lordship passes sentence upon me,
and I hope you will allow me to avail myself of this
opportunity to do so." He then commenced to expatiate
upon what he considered his country's wrongs, wThen
the Lord Chief Justice interrupted him, remarking that
that was not the time for any such observations.
" Nevertheless," his lordship added, " I should be sorry
to prevent you from saying anything you may desire
to. What is it you wish to say ? '

The prisoner then delivered a very masterly speech,

o 2

196 BARRETT'S SPEECH.

and one that made a profound impression on those
present. I cannot refrain from quoting fully its more
important passages. He said :

" In answer to the question that was put to me,
I have a great deal to say why sentence should not
be passed upon me. Nevertheless, I do not intend oc-
cupying your lordship's time with anything I may have
to say now, being fully conscious that no words of mine
would in any way alter your lordship's mind on this
matter. But I cannot allow this opportunity to pass
without making a few remarks, as it is likely to be
the only one I shall have on this side of the grave,
to endeavour at least to place myself as I should like to
stand before my fellow-men. In doing so, however,
I shall be compelled to expose the means that have
been resorted to in order to secure my conviction.
I am not going to whine for mercy ; yet, as a humble
individual, will I address your lordship, and as one whose
character has been ruthlessly and mercilessly assailed,
and whose determination is to defend it against all odds
so long as I have sufficient life left to enable me to
do so. Conscious I am of never having wilfully,
maliciously, and intentionally, as I am charged, in-
jured a human being, that I am aware of — no, not
even in character. True, I stand charged with the
most repulsive of crimes — that of murder ; yet, when
we come to examine the nature of the evidence on
which I stand convicted, it will be found that there
are no two witnesses who have not more or less — nay,

KEVIEWING THE EVIDENCE. 197

directly — contradicted eacli other. If we place any
reliance on the statements of those who profess to
be eye-witnesses of the deed, they all agree in de-
scribing the man who fired the barrel as a tall man,
evidently five feet ten inches, or more, in height.
Consider the impossibility of mistaking a person of
my humble appearance — five feet, six inches, or so, high;
and, taking these things into consideration, apart from
the testimony — the incontestable testimony — which has
been advanced in this Court, that I was not present
at that time, I express it as my most firm conviction
that there is not an unprejudiced man here — if it
is possible that such a man can be found here — who
can honestly believe me guilty. It is my conscientious
conviction that the jury, who have so far descended
to meet the requirements of the prosecution, do not,
in their hearts, believe me a murderer. I will now,
my lord, with your permission, endeavour, so far as
my humble abilities will allow me, to review a little
of the evidence that has been brought against me.
It would be utterly presumptuous, and most unpar-
donable in me, to attempt to deal with the whole
of the evidence for the prosecution, after the masterly
manner in which my very learned counsel analysed
that evidence last Friday ; but, notwithstanding that,
owing to some remarks of the Attorney-General in
summing-up, and of your lordship when you charged
the jury, I am compelled to revert to that evidence
again. I will first speak of my arrest in Scotland,

198 THE GLASGOW POLICE.

and of the way in which I was subsequently smuggled
to London. When first arrested in Glasgow on the
charge of firing a pistol off on the public green of that
place, I was taken to the station, searched, and nothing
was found upon me which even the police of Glasgow
could twist into a charge against me. Having so failed,
I was set at liberty ; but before that I gave them
my name and address, which, I think you will agree
with me, it is highly improbable I should have done
had I been apprehensive of being arrested on a charge
of murder. After that they came to my lodgings,
and arrested me, giving as a reason that they had found
the pistol of mine, three shots of which I had fired
on Glasgow Green. I was brought up on two suc-
ceeding days at the Police Court for the purpose of
examination, without its being proved — after the police
taking nine days to inquire — that a single syllable
I had uttered was untrue. Everything I said they
found to be correct, and every single reference I had
given them to be true. But then they discovered that
I was just recovering from a long illness, with means
exhausted, and without friends, so that if they got
me out of Scotland, I was completely in their power,
and utterly incapable of the slightest resistance ; and,
consequently, I was hurried off to London without the
slightest possible pretence for doing so, and without
attempting to inquire into my case in a place where
I could at once, and without the slightest possibility
of doubt, have proved my innocence. I don't now

A BKEAK IN THE SPEECH. 199

allude to the liigli authorities of Glasgow, but mean,
little, petty, truckling officials, who are to be found
in all police stations, who will have recourse to the
most heinous acts of injustice for the purpose of
advancing their own individual interests, and even
to gain the smile of a superior. I have no doubt
they are now congratulating themselves upon the
success of their scheme."

Proceeding to refer to the evidence of one of the

O

witnesses, a boy named Wheeler, the accused said :

" He failed to identify me until a wretch, wearing
the uniform of an officer, brought the boy back and
held him by the shoulder until he was compelled to
admit that he knew me."

He then went on to comment on the evidence of
another witness, whose name was Bud, and to analyse,
not without some skill, the evidence given on behalf
of the Crown. Kegarding that evidence, he said :

"Here, standing as it were looking into my grave,
I most solemnly declare that at the time these people

sware I was in London at these different places "

Here he broke off, and seemed to be engaged in
earnest thought.

The Lord Chief Justice remarked :
" Is there anything more you wish to say?"
Barrett pulled himself together at once, and pro-
ceeded :

" I now come to the evidence of that Prince of
Perjurers, Mullany, and his satellites;" whereupon the

200 ALLEGED DISCREPANCIES.

convict analysed Mullany's evidence, contrasting it
with that of two other witnesses, named Morris and
Keppel. He next dwelt upon what he described
as discrepancies between the evidence of the boy Morris
and Mrs. Keppel, as to his being at Mullany's house,
contending that if the jury were satisfied to accept
the statement as corroborative evidence, they would
find few persons to take the same view. How was
it, he would ask, that Mrs. Mullany had not been
called to establish the identity between himself and
the man known as Jackson ? There was no doubt
that the Crown would have brought her forward if her
statement could have supported their theory. There was
one thing that the Attorney-General, with all his inge-
nuity, had found it difficult to account for. Mullany had
stated that he (the speaker) and Murphy had come from
Glasgow with the avowed intention of rescuing Burke
from prison, whereas Mrs. Keppel had sworn that he
(the speaker) had been in the habit of visiting Mullany's
house for six weeks before the explosion. Burke had
only been arrested three weeks before, so there was
an obvious discrepancy. Indeed that was a sample of
what all the evidence was worth, when it came to
be sifted, and yet the Attorney-General saw in it
corroborative testimony, sufficient to send a human
being to the scaffold. With reference to that " fiend of

o

iniquity, Mullany," he would " pass him over with
as few words as possible, as though by the very mention
of his name," he should " inhale the most deadly poison.

BARRETT REFERS TO THE EXPLOSION. 201

I will," added the speaker, " allow him to remain in
his misery and wretchedness without further reference."

The prisoner then went on to say :

" And now, my lord, with reference to the Clerken-
well explosion, I will just say a few words. It is,
I know, useless for me, nor do I intend to enter upon
any protestations of innocence, being fully conscious
that no declarations of mine will have the slightest
tendency to prevent your lordship from taking the
course that you have already determined to pursue ;
but this I will, and can most solemnly declare, that
there is no one who more deeply commiserates the
sufferers from that explosion, and no one who more
earnestly deplores the fatal consequences of that oc-
currence than I do. No, I am not one who can rejoice
over the miseries and sufferings of my fellow-creatures,
the statements of Mullany to the contrary notwith-
standing. Him, even him, I can forgive, and pray
that his sufferings may not be so great as he deserves.
I also wish to correct a statement which has been made
here — an inference, at least, which has been made,
and which I think has been more or less believed —
that I am the author of the explosion. I can honestly
declare that never has a greater mistake been made ;
indeed, there is no one, unless their reason is com-
pletely clouded by their prejudices, who could for
one moment entertain such an idea. To give me
credit for such an undertaking is utterly absurd ; being,
as I am, a total stranger to acts of daring, and without

202 THE PERORATION.

any experience which would in any way fit me for
engaging in such an enterprise. Is it not ridiculous
to suppose that in the City of London, where, according
to Sir Eichard Mayne, and The Pall Mall Gazette,
there are ten thousand armed Fenians, they would
have sent to Glasgow for a party to do this
work, and then select a person of no higher standing
and no greater abilities than the humble individual
who now stands convicted before you ? To suppose
such a thing is a stretch of imagination that the dis-
ordered minds of the frightened officials of this
country could alone be capable of entertaining. It
is asked why I did not bring up the master of the
lodging-house, or those with whom I was employed.
I, at the time, communicated to the police the infor-
mation that I was at the time out of employment, but
I did give them my address, and I gave them the name
of the man with whom I had worked for years ; but
they carefully avoided publishing the result of their
inquiries. It is asked why did I not bring these
forward at the Police Court ? I instructed my solicitor
in all these facts, and therefore the matter does not
rest with me."

The prisoner then went on to say that he was far
from denying, and force of circumstances would never
compel him to deny, his love for his native land. He
loved his country, and he would candidly and proudly
own it. "If," he continued, "it is murder to love
Ireland more dearly than life, then indeed I am a

NOT A DRY EYE IN COURT. 203

murderer. If I could in any way remove the miseries
or redress the grievances of that land bv the sacrifice of

O *

rny own life I would willingly, nay, gladly, do so. If it
should please the God of Justice to turn to some
account, for the benefit of my suffering country, the
sacrifice of my poor, worthless life, I could, by the
grace of God, ascend the scaffold with firmness,
strengthened by the consoling reflection that the stain
of murder did not rest upon me, and mingling my
prayers for the salvation of my immortal soul with
those for the regeneration of my native land."

This brought Barrett's speech to a close, and the
sentence of death was then passed with the usual
formalities.

During the delivery of the speech I think I can
safely say that there was not a dry eye in the Court.
The sobs of the ladies were distinctly audible. Two or
three of them fainted, and had to be carried out of
Court. Even the oldest of the barristers and the Chief
Justice himself betrayed considerable emotion while
Barrett was speaking.

I cannot refrain from making some quotations from
a leading article that appeared in The Daily Telegraph
on the following morning :

" Interesting in one respect, the issue of the trial is
strangely unsatisfactory. While the police charged six
persons with the crime, they have afforded proof
sufficient to convict only one. The case against O'Keefe
and Ann Justice utterly broke down, and, when sifted,

204 COMMENTS OF THE DAILY TELEGRAPH.

that against the Desmonds and English was seen
to be far from complete. The police have manifestly
failed in some way. Barrett must have had accomplices,
either in the persons arraigned along with himself, or in

others who are still at liberty AVe do not wish

to bear hardly on the police, who have had to perform
an intensely perplexing task, and, in many respects,
have performed it well. But it is difficult to avoid the
conclusion that they have fallen into their old blunder
of sticking too closely to one line of search ; that they
have been content to follow the clue which they at first
obtained, and that they have allowed the real culprits
to escape. The Cannon Street murderer is still at
liberty ; so is the person who shot the bandsman,
M'Donnell ; and now we have a nest of murderers
defying our search. It is impossible for the public
to regard such repeated failures of justice without
grave disquiet. Fortunately the prime author of the
Clerkeuwell explosion — the man who set fire to the
barrel — has not escaped. Barrett has been found guilty
and sentenced to death ; nor could the jury have
returned other than a fatal verdict. The proofs ....
were too many, too strong, and too direct to be set
aside."

The concluding passages of the article were as
follows :

" Barrett is to die ; and he will die justly, since the
evidence that he committed an infamous crime is com-
plete ; and his fate is all the more deserved because he

THEN AND NOW. 205

is evidently a man of high intelligence. Before re-
ceivino- the sentence, he delivered a most remarkable
speech, criticising with great acuteness the evidence
against him, protesting that he had been condemned on
insufficient grounds, and eloquently asserting his inno-
cence. Such an address, of course, cannot shake the
conviction that he is guilty, but it excites regret that a
man of mental power should have become the instru-
ment of assassins, and should have to expiate on the
scaffold the guilt of an infamous crime."

In reference to the opening passages in that article,
I cannot help remarking that it is a curious coincidence
that the same fault is being found with the police of
to-day as was found with the police of 1868. Thus it
may be inferred by some that since 1868 the force has
not deteriorated ; but this opinion I, for one, cannot
endorse. In my judgment the force has deteriorated
considerably. I am not now speaking about its disci-
pline, and its capacity for keeping the streets, but
about its ability to detect crime. At the time of the
Clerkenwell explosion we had a regular detective force
-that is to say, a separate organisation for unravelling
the mysteries and complications of crime — but that
force we never hear of now.

CHAPTER XVII.

NIL DESPERANDUM.

Another Fenian trial — The indictment — Evidence of informers-
Details of a ludicrous plot : Chester Castle to be seized— -Kesult
of the trial — A shrewd Jewish solicitor — He sends me a "dead"
case — The value of bristles — Conclusive evidence — How the
police found the stolen property — Our consultation — Unaccount-
able merriment of the solicitor — " Not a leg to stand on. Ha !
ha ! ha ! " — The thirteenth juryman — He makes a sad statement,
and is allowed to serve— An unexpected occurrence : the jury
ask to retire — Hours pass, and no verdict is returned — An
extraordinary denoument — It is explained.

Ox Tuesday, April 28th, George Berry (alias Richard
Burke, alias AVinslow), Joseph Theobald Casey, and
Henry Shaw, were indicted for that they, together with
divers other persons unknown, did feloniously compass,
devise, and intend to depose our Lady the Queen from
the style, honour, and royal name of the Imperial
Crown of the United Kingdom ; and that they did
manifest such intent by certain overt , acts, set out in
the indictment. In other counts, the overt acts were
said to have taken place in Ireland and in the county
of Warwick.

THE INDICTMENT. 207

The case bad been removed from that county,
where in due course it would have been tried in the
capital town, under the provisions of the 19th and 20th
Vic.

The trial took place in the Court where Barrett had
been sentenced on the previous day. The same counsel
as before represented the Crown, while Mr. Ernest
Jones, the celebrated Chartist leader, appeared for Burke,
Mr. F. H. Lewis for Casey, and Mr. Pater for Shaw.
The Judges were Mr. Baron Bramwell and Mr. Justice

o

Keating.

The reason why the actual venue of the case was
Warwick was because it was alleged on the part of the
Crown that the prisoners were members of the Fenian
Confederation, and that, in pursuance of certain plots
and plans, they had proceeded to Birmingham to
purchase arms and ammunition to distribute among
the Fenian brotherhood in England and Ireland, and
to procure gunpowder and other destructive materials
for the purpose of destroying public buildings, and, by
other means and devices, to overthrow the Government
of Her Majesty the Queen.

I was not engaged in this case ; but I must briefly
refer to it, as it was for attempting to secure the release
of Casey and Burke, that Barrett was condemned to
death.

The principal witnesses who testified to the accused
being Fenians were two informers — Corridon, and a
man named Godfrey Massey. Corridon stated that he

208 MEDITATED ATTACK ON CHESTER CASTLE.

himself became a Fenian in 1862, v;hen he took an
oath to overthrow the British Government, and to
establish a Republic in its stead. He remained a
member of the Federation until 1866, and, in the
interval, attended several Fenian meetings. At one of
them, held in Douane Street, he saw Burke. A man
named O'Mahony, who was at the head of the Fenian
organisation in America, attended the meeting, and none
but leading members were present. The witness went on
to say that, in 1865, after that meeting, it was resolved,
in Burke's presence, that certain military men should be
sent over to Ireland to command the people of that
country in the event of a rising. The witness subse-
quently went himself over to Ireland, where he met
Colonel Thomas Kelly and Stevens, the heads of the
movement in Dublin, and was afterwards sent to
Liverpool in the capacity of paymaster of the organisa-
tion. At certain Fenian meetings, held at Liverpool in
1866, and at which Burke was present, a plot was
formed for an attack on Chester Castle. It was arranged
that Burke and Shaw should buy the firearms, and that
men should go to Chester from Liverpool, Manchester,
Leeds, and other large towns, acting under the orders
of their various centres. In all, some 2,500 men
were, it was decided, to take part in the work.
Chester Castle was a great depot for the storage of
arms ; and it was arranged that, after the building-
had been captured, these arms were to be taken out and
conveyed to the mail-train, which was to be seized for

BURKE AND SHAW CONVICTED. 209

the purpose. The telegraph-wires were to be destroyed,
the mail-train was to proceed to Holy head, and the
railway lines were afterwards to be torn up. On the
arrival of the train at Holyhead, the mail-boat was to
be seized and the arms taken on board, the captain
being retained to take the vessel to the Irish coast.
The night of the llth of February was fixed for the
attack on the Castle. The witness explained that he
informed the Government of these plans in the
September of the preceding year.

Massey corroborated the statements of the previous
witness ; and several persons from Birmingham testified
to the purchase of arms, ammunition, etc., by the
prisoners. It appeared that these arms and ammunition
were bought in small quantities, but to a large extent.

After a somewhat protracted trial, Casey was ac-
quitted, but Burke and Shaw were found guilty, the
former being sentenced to fifteen, and the latter to
seven years' penal servitude.

At somewhere about this period, I numbered among
my clients one of the shrewdest men I ever met in my
life. He was a solicitor in large criminal practice, who was
known, feared, and trusted by all the thieves, burglars,
and receivers — especially by the last-named — in this
great metropolis. A member of the Jewish community,
he was an old man of remarkably sharp appearance,
and of diminutive stature. One Saturday preceding
the opening of the Sessions of the Central Criminal
Court, I was sitting in my chambers, when a brief was

VOL. I. P

210 A THIEF OF LOXG STANDING.

handed to me from the office of the gentleman alluded

O

to, a message accompanying it to the effect that he
would meet me for consultation, at five o'clock, at the
chambers of Mr. Montagu Chambers, in Child's Place.
I read my instructions, and found that the case was
as dead a one as could well be imagined. One Solomon
Isaacs was charged with receiving a quantity of stolen
property, including several cartloads of bristles. Until
that moment I did not know how high is the commercial
value of bristles. They command a very considerable
price.

The man had been suspected by the police for some
time. Vans of stolen o-oods had been on several

O

occasions traced to the immediate neighbourhood of
his house, and then, somehow or another, mysteriously
lost sight of.

It was the old story over again. One of the thieves
gave information against the receiver. A cordon of
police was drawn round Solomon Isaacs' house, and
Sergeant Ham and another officer entered it. On
searching the building itself, the police found nothing.
However, at the other end of the garden, across a lane,
and apparently in no way connected with the house
itself, were some out-houses. As a result of certain
information received, the police made it their business
to search these out-houses. They proved to be crammed
with a marvellous assortment of articles, including pier-
glasses and carpet-brooms. No bristles, however, were
found in the heterogeneous collection. The police knew

THE LITTLE JEWISH SOLICITOR. 211

very well that they could rely upon the truthful-
ness, or rather upon the treachery, of their informant;
and a further search was made about the premises.
Presently the sharp eye of Ham noticed that some of the
earth in the garden had been recently turned. Spades
and shovels were procured, and the officer commenced
to dig, with the result that, five or six inches from the
surface of the ground, he discovered the stolen bristles.
When taken into custody, Solomon Isaacs endeavoured
to escape. He also made a variety of conflicting state-
ments. Thus it was apparent that the case against him
was a dead one.

The meeting took place at the appointed hour at
my leader's chambers, and on this occasion my little
Jewish client was in more excellent spirits than I
had ever seen him before. The more my leader and
I expressed an opinion adverse to his case, the more
delighted he seemed to be. Upon my leader declaring
that we had not a leg to stand on, the little fellow
was seized with an uncontrollable fit of merriment.

The meeting over, my client accompanied me back
to my chambers in King's Bench. Walk. As we shook
hands on parting, he exclaimed :

" Not a leer to stand on, eh ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! We

o

shall . see about that ! Be early in Court, my boy ;
the early bird, you know. Nil desperandum is my
motto. Not a leg to stand on ! Ha ! ha ! " and,
leaving me speechless with astonishment, he vanished

in the darkness with an unearthly kind of chuckle.

p 2

212 THIRTEEN IN THE BOX.

On the morning of the trial, acting on my in-
structions, I made my appearance in Court five or ten
minutes before the business of the day commenced,
and there, seated at the solicitors' table, I found my
little friend attentively reading the columns of The
Daily News. I observed, though the circumstance did
not particularly engage my attention at the moment,
that there was a solitary juryman in the box, who
was also occupied with one of the morning papers.

In due time the Recorder, Mr. Russell Gurney, came
into Court, whereupon the Clerk of Arraigns, as is cus-
tomary, read over the names of the jurymen. To the
astonishment of everybody there were thirteen in the box !

Upon the matter being investigated, the man whom
I had noticed on entering the Court, rose and addressed
the Bench.

I should explain that this individual was the most
melancholy-looking man I have ever seen. He was
dressed entirely in black, and looked the very picture
of misery.

" My lord," he said, " I am afraid that I am the
cause of this confusion. I am in the list of jurymen
for to-morrow ; but I have had a great misfortune
happen to me. I have lost my wife."

The Recorder, who was one of the kindest-hearted
men in the world, said he was sorry that the juryman
should, under the circumstances, have thought it
necessary to be present, and offered at once to release
him from any further attendance during the session.

" Thank yon, my lord," said the melancholy-looking

THE JURY NOT AGREED. 213

individual, " but I would rather serve to-day, if you
will allow me. I think the business of the Court will
distract my attention, and help me for the time being
to forget my loss. Perhaps one of the other gentlemen
will leave the box now, and will serve for me
to-morrow, when I have to attend the funeral."

The request was granted, and a gentleman stepped
from the box. The jury was then sworn. I noticed
that when it came to the turn of the melancholy-looking
man to take the oath, he did so with his hat on, being
sworn on the Old Testament. The prisoner pleaded
" Not Guilty," and the trial commenced.

The evidence that was brought forward bore even
more heavily upon the accused than I had anticipated.
My leader, in addressing the jury, did the best he could
under the circumstances, but entirely failed to produce
any effect. The Judge, having summed-up, asked the
jury if they desired him to read over the evidence.
Upon the foreman replying in the negative, his lord-
ship directed them to consider their verdict. They
turned round, and, after an interval of five or ten
minutes, to the surprise of everybody, there were
symptoms of disagreement in the box. The Judge
again asked if he should read over the evidence,
adding : " Is there any question you wish to ask, or
can I assist you in any other way ? '

The foreman, whose temper was apparently ruffled,
replied, before any one could stop him, that all except
one were agreed. The usher was then sworn and the
jury retired ; the last to leave the box being the

A STAGGEEING VERDICT.

melancholy-looking man, who carried a portly-looking
great-coat on his arm.

Hours passed, and yet no verdict was returned.
At five o'clock, the usual hour for the rising of the
Court, the jury were sent for, and, in answer to the
usual question, the foreman said there was not the
slightest prospect of their agreeing. The Kecorder,
who was then the Member for Southampton, expressed
his intention of going down to the House, and of re-
turning at ten o'clock, observing that, even if he had
to keep the jury there all night, he would never
discharge them until they returned a verdict.

At ten o'clock the Recorder returned. Still no
verdict was forthcoming. The jury were again sent
back to their room. Five hours elapsed, and then —
namely, at three o'clock in the morning — the usher came
into Court with the intimation that the jury had agreed.
The twelve men dragged their weary steps into the box,
their names were called over, and the foreman returned
a verdict of " Not Guilty."

I shall never forget the excitement of my little
friend the solicitor. He was wide awake sitting in the
well, where he had remained all the time, going out
neither for bit nor sup. He absolutely danced with
delight. " Not a leg to stand on ! Not a leg to stand
on ! " he exclaimed in my ear, and then hurried the
prisoner from the dock.

I was, I must confess, staggered at the result of the
trial. Having unrobed, I was leaving the Court-house,

A JURYMAN EXPLAINS. 215

when, in the lobby, I chanced upon one of the jury. I
could not resist the temptation of asking the meaning of
so extraordinary a denotement. " Lor' bless you, sir,"
said he, " it was that miserable-looking chap as lost his
wife. There never was such an obstinate, disagreeable
fellow born. From the first he said he had made up his
mind that the prisoner was not guilty, and he said he
would never consent to a verdict the other way. When
we went to the room, he put his great-coat down in a
corner, curled himself up on it, and commenced reading
the newspaper. When any one spoke to him he said he
wouldn't answer unless they'd come over to his way of
thinking. The worst of it was, sir, that we had nothing
to eat or drink ; but this obstinate chap kept eating
sandwiches and drinking brandy and water from a great
flask he had brought in his pocket ; and when we asked
him for some he burst out laughing, and said he
wouldn't give us a mouthful between us. Well, sir,
what was the good of our sticking out ? There we was,
and the Eecorder had said he wouldn't discharge us ; so
we should have stopped there and starved. One by one
gave in, until we all agreed to ' Not Guilty.' '

The next morning I had occasion to pass the little
solicitor's office, and whom should I see coming out of it
but the obstinate juryman. Strange to say, he no
longer wore a melancholy expression, and, in place of
the black clothes of the previous day, he was attired in
a light tweed suit, such as a tourist affects, and had a
merry, self-satisfied twinkle in the eye.

CHAPTER XVIII.

AURUM PER MEDIOS IRE SATELLITES
ET PERRUMPERE AMAT SAXA.

An attempt to corrupt the police — Trial of Critchley and Richards
—Ham's evidence — Fatal termination of a fight — Trial of those
who took part in it — A nice point : boxing or prize-fighting 1—
Mr. Baron Bramwell hesitates — He consults Mr. Justice Byles
—The final decision, which settles the law on the subject.

TOWAEDS tlie cud of 1868, a rather remarkable trial took
place at the Old Bailey. I refer to it, not so much on
account of its general interest, as on account of the
illustration it affords of how an attempt may be made
to corrupt the police by the higher class of criminals ;
by which I mean professional thieves who, by their mal-
practices, have amassed a considerable amount of money.
Two men, William Critchley and Thomas Richards, were
charged with offering and giving to James Ham and
George Ranger, detectives of the Metropolitan Police
force, the sum of £20 to induce them to give false
evidence at the hearing of a charge against William
Green and William Simpson. Ham himself, in the
witness-box, told the story of the attempted corruption.
On the 17th of May, he apprehended Green and
Simpson for having in their possession a gold watch

THE TEMPTER. 217

and chain supposed to have been stolen. He searched
Simpson's house, and found there, under somewhat
suspicious circumstances, a quantity of property. The
case came before the Magistrate at the Lambeth Police

o

Court on the 8th of May, and it was adjourned until
the following Wednesday fortnight. On Saturday night,
the 22nd of May, Ham received a letter, in consequence
of which he went to the Elephant and Castle. He
there saw Richards, who said : " Well, Jimmy, how
are you ? Come over the way and have a glass." They
then adjourned to the " Buckingham Arms" public-
house, and after they had had some refreshment they
left. They then walked down the road together,
Richards taking Ham by the arm, and saying: "Jimmy,
I'll tell you what I want to speak to you about. You
and Ranger have got old Black Myles and Jimmy
Green, haven't you ? " Ham replied in the affirmative.
"I suppose," said Richards, "you don't want to get
them convicted, do you ? >: The answer was: "No;
not particularly." " Well," continued the tempter,
"old Billy Critchley has been down to me, and he
wanted me to see Potter5' (the Inspector of Police) ;
"but I said ' no, that won't do.' Now look here,
Jimmy, old Billy says you can have twenty quid, and
no one shall know anything about it except you, me,
and Ranger. You can let the poor devils get turned
up. You are sure to have them later on for some-
thing better. The stuff you found hasn't got an
owner yet. We can send some party down to buff

218 THE POLICE TEAP.

for it" (a thieves' expression for "identify"); "and
you can easily say before the Magistrate that you've
made inquiry about the property, and you believe it
belongs to the prisoner in Court."

Ham now put himself in communication with his
superior officers in reference to the affair, and from
that moment he acted under their direction. An
appointment was made for the purpose of the £20
being handed over, and a meeting accordingly took
place between Ham, Banger, and Eichards. The last-
named was asked if he had brought the money, and
he replied : " No ; you must get the men turned up
first. We'll leave the money with the landlord of

the " (mentioning the name of a public-house

well known as a resort of thieves). " When the men
are turned up, you can go there and collar the quids.'*'
Upon Ham and Ranger demurring to this proposition,
Richards said : " Well, old Billy Critchley won't part
with it. I'll go clown and fetch him, and you shall
settle it with him your own way."

This was precisely what the officers desired ; for
they had made arrangements for arresting both men.
After being searched at the station — so that, if neces-
sary, it might be subsequently proved that neither
had any money in his possession when he entered the
public-house — they had been followed by several other
police officers, who were instructed to keep them well
in sight, and to be in readiness to afford assistance
at a moment's notice.

TWO YEARS OF HARD LABOUR. 219

Presently they were joined by Critchley and a
well-known thief, nick-named " the Barrister." The
former said : " Tom tells me, Mr. Banger, you is a
perfect gentleman ; but I don't know you as well as
I do Jimmy " (meaning Ham). The speaker then
put his hand in his trouser pocket, and passed
something to Bichards, who thereupon handed ten
sovereigns to Ham, and a similar sum to Banger.
Critchley, turning to Banger, then said : " Well, my
time is precious, governor ; I must be off." As he
emerged from the door of the public-house, he was
seized by two constables, and simultaneously Ham and
Banger arrested Bichards.

This was the story as told by Ham, and it was
fully corroborated by Banger. The prisoners were both
found guilty, and both sentenced to two years' imprison-
ment with hard labour.

That the case was considered of some importance
was shown by the fact that Mr. Hardinge-Giffard, Q.C.,
and Mr. Cooper appeared for the Commissioners of Police,
who prosecuted. Critchley was defended by Serjeant
Ballantine and myself; while the case of Bichards was
entrusted to Mr. Metcalfe and Mr. Douglas Straight.

I was always a favourite with professors of the
noble art of self-defence ; and I do not think that,
at any rate during the last fifteen or sixteen years
of my professional career, there was a case in London
associated with the ring in which I did not appear as
defending counsel.

220 A FATAL BOXING CONTEST.

One of these cases was tried before Baron Bramwell,
at the Central Criminal Court, and as it, to a certain
extent, decided the law upon the subject — the decision
coming as it did from our highest authority — I may be
allowed to refer to it.

John Young, William Shaw, Daniel Morris, Edward
Donelly, George Flynn, and others, were charged with
the manslaughter of Edward Wilniot. Shaw was the
son of the celebrated Jimmy Shaw, of Windmill Street,
Haymarket, well known to all the jeunesse doree of that
period who were of a sporting or " doggy ' tendency.
Donelly was the champion of the light-weights.

Messrs. Poland and Beasley conducted the case for
the prosecution ; Messrs. Ribton and Gough appeared
for Young ; and I was counsel for Shaw, Flynn, and the
other defendants. A witness deposed that on the 9th
of October, he went to the " Wrekin," in Broad Court,
a house kept by George Shaw. Thence he went to the
house of the prisoner, William Shaw, in Windmill Street,
Haymarket. He had often been there before. A ring
was always to be found in a room upstairs. The wall
formed one of its sides, and the remaining sides were
formed by stakes and a rope. He and Donelly acted
as seconds for a man named Wilniot, and two men —
Morris and Daw — acted as seconds for Young. The

< — i

principals wore gloves. They were, as is usual, naked
to the waist, their shirts being off. About a hundred
persons were present, and occupied seats at either end
of the ring. The men fought a succession of rounds,

WILMOT'S INJURIES. 221

the contest lasting for about an hour. At the last
round, Wilmot fell, in consequence " either of a shove
or a blow" received from Young. On this point the
witness was pressed, and he ultimately said that it was
a blow, dealt somewhere in the face. Proceeding, he
deposed that when Wilmot fell, he struck his head
against a post running up in the centre of the ring.
The witness picked him up, gave him a drop of brandy,
and, after dressing him, took him in a cab to the
hospital. All the prisoners were present, taking an
active part in the fight, as seconds, time-keepers, or
referees. In cross-examination, the witness admitted
that it was " only sparring, fairly conducted " ; and
that "time" was called. He also said that, with the
exception of gloves being used, the ordinary rules of a
prize-fight were observed.

Evidence was then given by the house-surgeon of
Charing Cross Hospital. Wilmot, he said, was brought
in insensible at twelve o'clock at night. He never
regained his senses, and died at half-past six next
morning. The post-mortem had shown that death was
the result of a very severe blow or fall. The body
was covered with bruises.

Inspector Silverton, who had charge of the West
End district at that time, produced the gloves.

Upon the conclusion of the evidence for the
prosecution, I submitted that there was no case against
Shaw ; and that the witnesses, having been spectators
at an unlawful contest, must be regarded as accomplices,

222 THE POINT AT ISSUE.

and, as such, would require to be corroborated. Mr.
Poland replied, quoting a case that had been decided
the other way. Mr. Baron Bramwell said it had
occurred to him that the witnesses might have refused
to give evidence on the ground that, by so doing, they
mi^ht incriminate themselves. I further submitted

O

that there was no evidence on a charge of manslaughter

o o

against any of the prisoners, death having happened in
the exercise of a mere lawful sport. The Judge admitted
that the difficulty was in deciding what there was that
was unlawful in the contest. It took place in a private
room ; and was there any breach of the peace ? No
doubt if death ensued from a fight, independently of
the fact that it took place for money, the case would
be one of manslaughter. A fight was a dangerous
thing, and likely to cause death ; but the medical
witness had stated that sparring with the gloves was
not dangerous, and was not a practice likely to cause
death.

Mr. Baron Bramwell then proceeded to the new
Court, for the purpose of consulting Mr. Justice Byles.
On returning, he stated that he retained the opinion he
had already expressed. It had occurred to him, how-
ever, that even supposing there was no danger in the
original encounter, if the men fought on until they
were in such a state of exhaustion, that there was a
danger of their falling and sustaining fatal injuries,
then the case might amount to one of manslaughter ;

!_-> *— '

and he proposed therefore so to leave the issue to the

AN IMPORTANT VERDICT. 223

jury, holding over the point for the consideration of the
Court for Crown Cases Eeserved, should it become
necessary.

The jury ultimately returned a verdict of "Not
Guilty" against all the prisoners, and they were
discharged.

CHAPTER XIX.

QUO FUGIT VENUS! EHEU QUOVE COLOR.

Trial of Madame Rachel — Police Court proceedings — Mr. Knox—
Ballantine, Straight, and I appear against Madame Rachel — Mrs.
Borradaile's evidence — A description of that lady — Her intro-
duction to Lord Ranelagh — What Mrs. Borradaile paid to
be made "beautiful for ever" —How she raised the necessary
cash — Gushing love-letters from " William "• —Ordering jewels,
lace, trousseau, etc. — Faulty orthography attributed to the
servant — His love was as warm as a lighted cigar — Lord
Ranelagh's denial and explanations — The jury disagree and
are discharged — The fresh trial — A verdict of " Guilty."

IN the month of August, 18G8, a very remarkable case
was tried before the Recorder of London — that of Sarah
Rachel Leverson, known to the world as Madame
Rachel, a purveyor of all sorts of cosmetics, enamels,
paint-powders, and rouges, who proclaimed, as one of
the lures of her calling, that she had the power of
making women " beautiful for ever." The case afforded
a striking illustration of the vanity of some women, and
of what tricks can be played upon them by the artful.
The matter had been originally inquired into at

MR. KNOX. 225

Marlborough Street Police Court, where I appeared
as counsel for the prosecution. The magistrate before
whom the case came was the celebrated Mr. Knox,
who was, in my opinion, after Sir Thomas Henry, the
best metropolitan magistrate on the Bench during the
quarter of a century that I practised at the Bar. He
was a little sensational, it is true, and at times, with
the heavy strain of a very busy Court upon him, he
was inclined to be irritable ; but he was, nevertheless,
a very able and painstaking magistrate. In the days
of Delane — that prince of editors, for whom no worthy
successor has yet been found — he was a leader writer on
Tlie Times. He was a most accomplished man, speak-
ing several modern languages, and certainly the best
story-teller I have ever come in contact with. The
Court at Marlborough Street was, and is, a most im-
portant one ; and at last, from sheer hard work and
over-pressure of the brain, my poor friend broke down.
On returning home from the Court, he was seized one
day in the streets with a very severe illness ; and, as
he had completed his service as a civil servant, he re-
tired at once upon his full pension.

But I am forgetting Madame Rachel. Remand after
remand took place ; but eventually she was committed
for trial. Serjeant Ballantine, myself, and Mr. Straight,
were retained for the prosecution, while the interests
of Madame Rachel were entrusted to Mr. Digby
Seymour, Q.C., Serjeant Parry, Serjeant Sleigh, and
Mr. Rigby — an array of counsel which clearly shows

VOL. I. Q

226 ANXIOUS TO BE " BEAUTIFUL FOR EVER."

that making people "beautiful for ever" was not an
unlucrative profession.

The charge against the accused was that of obtaining
the sum of £600 from Mary Tucker Borradaile, by
false and fraudulent pretences, and of conspiring to
defraud her of various other sums amounting in the
total to £3,000. The case was so extraordinary a one
that I propose to give the evidence of the prosecutrix
almost in extenso. Examined by me in chief, she
said :

" I am the widow of Colonel Borradaile, to whom
I was married twenty-two years ago. I first became
acquainted with the prisoner in 1864. I saw in the
newspaper an advertisement stating that Madame
Kachel was 'purveyor to the Queen.' I went to her
shop and had some conversation with her. She asked
me how much money I had to spend. On my first
visit I spent £10, and in the course of two or three
days I had invested £170 with her. I paid her various
sums of money for cosmetics, etc., during the latter
part of 1864 and the commencement of 1865. Before
purchasing these articles I asked her to do something
for my skin, and she promised that, if I would follow
out her course of treatment in every particular, she
would ultimately succeed in making me beautiful for

ever."

I do not wish to be at all unkind or ungallant ;
but how the witness could have been brought to
believe such a consummation possible — if she had

THE ALLEGED INTRODUCTION. 227

consulted a looking-glass and seen what Nature had
done for her — I was, and always have been, utterly
unable to comprehend. She was a spare, thin, scraggy-
looking woman, wholly devoid of figure ; her hair
was dyed a bright yellow ; her face was ruddled with
paint ; and the darkness of her eyebrows was strongly
suggestive of meretricious art. She had a silly,
giggling, half-hysterical way of talking, and altogether
gave one the idea of anything but the heroine of
such a romance as we are about to follow.

The witness, continuing, said : " On one occasion
I called upon Madame Kachel, who told me that she
had had an interview with the gentleman who had
fallen in love with me. On asking his name I was
informed that it was Lord Ranelagh. I asked when
he had met me, and the reply was — both before and
after my marriage. Madame Kachel said that he had
lost sight of me for some time, but that he had
recently seen me. She said that she would introduce
me to him the next day. She also said that he
was a very good man, and very rich. Next day
I called at Maddox Street, where the prisoner lived.
The house is the corner one, being partly in Maddox
Street and partly in New Bond Street. Madame Eachel
opened the door and said : ' I will now introduce
you to the man who loves you.' She then introduced
me to a man whom I believed, and still believe, to
be Lord Kanelagh. I said to him, ' Are you Lord
Eanelagh ? ' and he answered, ' Yes ; here is my card.'

Q 2

228 THE SECOND PEOCESS AND ITS COST.

He then handed me a card, which I returned to him.
The gentleman who gave me the card is the gentleman
I now see in Court (Lord Ranelagh). Some conversa-
tion took place between us, and then Lord Ranelagh
retired. I afterwards went with Madame Rachel to
her room, and she told me that Lord Ranelagh would
make me a good husband. This wTas the first mention
there had been of marriage. I saw Lord Ranelagh
there on several subsequent occasions. On one
occasion Madame Rachel told me to go and take
a bath. The baths were at a Mrs. Hick's, in Davis
Street, Berkeley Square, close by. I took the bath,
and on my return to the shop I found Lord Rauelagh
there. Madame Rachel again introduced me to him.
He made a bow to me, but I forget the conversation.
Lord Ranelagh then again retired, and I had a further
conversation with Madame Rachel. She again told
me he would make me a good husband.

"At the end of May, or the beginning of June,
Madame Rachel told me it was necessary that, before
I married Lord Ranelagh, I should go through an
extra process of being made beautiful for ever. I
think Madame Rachel also said that the process was
to be gone through at Lord Ranelagh's express desire.
The sum I was to pay for this was to be £1,000. I
went to the City with Madame Rachel, in a carriage,
to sell out money in the Funds amounting in cash
to £963. I then went back to Rachel's, where I
saw a solicitor named H . The £963 was never

MARRIAGE BY PROXY. 229

handed over to me, but I gave this order to the
solicitor, not in my handwriting, but signed by me :

"'Mr. H , I request you to pay Madame

Rachel £800 on account of £963 2s. lid, received
this day.

"'(Signed) M. T. BORRADAILE.'

" Madame Rachel told me how to word it, and I
wrote this receipt :

"'A receipt for £800, being balance of £1,000
received from me for bath preparations, spices, powders,
sponges, perfumes, and attendance, to be continued
till I (Mrs. B.) am finished by the process.'

" Madame Rachel said we were to be married by
proxy, and that it was to be done by letter writings.
She said she had married two parties before by proxy,
and that I should be the third. About a month after
the receipt was signed I began to receive letters. I
received some of them before the jewellery was ordered.
Madame Rachel told me that jewellery was necessary
for the marriage, and that it would cost £1,400. She
told me that the letters would be signed ' William '
in case they should be left about. I knew at that
time that Lord Ranelagh's Christian name was Thomas.
At the time Madame Rachel gave me one of the
letters, she also handed me a vinaigrette and a pencil-
case, which she stated had belonged to his lordship's
mother. The letter ran as follows :

230 THE CORONET AND THE DISPATCHES.

'"MOUNT STREET.
" ' MY ONLY DEARLY BELOVED MARY,

"'The little perfume-box and pencil-case belonged
to my sainted mother. She died with them in her hand.
When she was a schoolgirl it was my father's first gift
to her. Granny has given the watch and locket to me
again. Your coronet is finished, my love. Granny
said you had answered my last letter, but you have
forgotten to send it. I forgot yesterday was Ash
Wednesday. Let old Granny arrange the time, as we
have little to spare. My dearest one, what is the
matter with the old woman ? She seems out of sorts.
We must manage to keep her in good temper for our
own sakes, because she has to manage all for us, and I
should not have had the joy of your love had it not
been for her. Darling love ; Mary, my sweet one, all
will be well in a few hours. The dispatches have
arrived. I will let you know all when I hear from you.,
my heart's love. Bear up, my fond one. I shall be at
your feet — those pretty feet that I love — and you may
kick your ugly old donkey. Two letters, naughty little
pet, and you have not answered one. You are in
sorrow about your brother.

" ' With fond and devoted love,

" ' Yours, till death,

"'WILLIAM.'

"Madame Kachel was ' Granny.' I also received this-

LOVE AND REPROACH. 231

letter from Madame Rachel's grand-daughter in her
presence :

" ' MY OWN DEAR MARY,

" 'Granny tells me that you were to be with me
at the Scotch Stores this afternoon. I waited outside
7, George Street, for two hours. I give you one
warning ; if you listen to your family I will leave
England for ever. Mary, my own, I have to play a
double game to save your honour and my own. It is
now six o'clock, and I am wet, through walking up and
down George Street. I have been asked all manner of
questions. You must write and tell Lewis & Lewis you
do not want them to interfere further in your affairs, or
we are betrayed. And think of your position and
name, and think of your daughter. Cope is at the
bottom of all this. Mary, for the last time, choose
between your family and me. If you value your own
life or mine, do not admit Smith ; he is the paramour of
your greatest enemy. My heart's life, I will be at All
Souls' to-morrow. I was at Eand all's on Saturday last,
a dirty corncutter's. If ever you go there again I shall
cease to love you, if I can. If I call on you with a
gentleman be sure to deny all knowledge of me, as
otherwise we are lost. It is your name I study.
" ' With fond and undying love,

" ' Your devoted

'"WILLIAM/

" Before I received that letter my family had been

232 "WILLIAM" BECOMES "EDWARD/

communicated with, and I had consulted Messrs. Lewis
& Lewis. That letter was received after I had parted
with all my money and securities. Almost all the letters
were in different handwritings, but all the letters I
received I believed came from Lord Ranelagh. Madame
Rachel told me that his lordship had hurt his arm and
could not write very well, and that his servant wrote
some of the letters. I also received this letter from
Madame Rachel :

" ' MY DEAR MARY,

" {I will be with you to-morrow as soon as possible.

" ' Yours, until death,

" ' EDWARD.

" ' My dearest beloved, write me a line — kisses.'
Mrs. Borradaile, care of Madame Rachel.'

1C I

" I pointed out to Madame Rachel that one of the
letters was signed, 'Edward,' and she said it was
necessary in case I left them about. Before the month
of August I had parted with £1,400, and before parting
with it I received this letter :

" ' MOUNT STREET.

" ' MY DARLING MARY,

" ' My own pet, do what I ask. I wish you to burn
the letters, and all you do I dare say is for the best.
My darling pet and love, many thanks. I know you
will keep your promise. My sweet love, I will devote

VAGUE REFERENCES TO THE FUTURE. 233

my life, and all my love to you. I cannot find words to
do so. My devotion in years shall tell my heart's fond
love for you, darling sweet one. I will tell you all at
your feet.

"'My own loved Mary, with fond devotion, ever

yours, with lots of kisses,

"'WILLIAM.'

" On the envelope of that letter was written ' With
love and kisses.' I wrote answers to those letters
which Madame Rachel always dictated in her sitting-
room. She always kept the letters I wrote, saying that
she would give them to Lord Ranelagh. This is
another letter that I received :

"'MY DEAR BELOVED MARY,

'"I was in hopes I should have the pleasure of
seeing you this day, but I am doomed to a disappoint-
ment. I hear you are grieving, my own darling pet.
Am I the cause ? I would rather be shot than cause
you one minute's pain. Do you regret the confidence
you have placed in me ? You say you have no desire to
reside at Cheltenham again, my love. You make what
arrangements you think proper, and I am satisfied. I
thank you, my love, for going to Covent Garden. Let
me know by return, my pet, when you have finished
with Mr. Haynes, as I find it impossible to wait any
longer. Hope deferred makes the heart grow sick. I
hear all is arranged for the country, my own darling

234 A LOVER'S DEVOTION.

love. Do not let me have to chide you ; only say what
you require, and your slightest wish shall be obeyed.
" With fond, devoted love,

" ' Your affectionate and loving

"'WILLIAM.'

"I remarked to Madame Rachel that the spelling
of this letter was bad, and she said that his servant
must have written it. I also received another letter
from Madame Rachel.

" I should say that, before receiving this letter, I had
been told by Madame Rachel that Lord Ranelagh was
going to Belgium with the volunteers.

" ' MOUNT STREET.

" ' MY DARLING MARY,

" ' What made you suppose I would go to Belgium
without you ? It is cruel of you to think so. But
after our disappointment of yesterday, I was in hopes
that you would have complied with my wishes. I have
left the message with Rachel. She told me last night
that she expected you there, for sure, to-day. I had
called there twice, and found you had not been. You
said you would come after church. My own darling, I
did not go to church this morning, and you know what
prevented me from doing so. You must see Rachel
to-night, as I may be ordered off by five in the morning.
Pray, sweet love, call on her at once. I would rather be
shot like a dog than leave England without you. I am

CONCERNING THE UNPAID BILLS. 235

half distracted at not finding you. There is no time
to lose.

" ' Your devoted, but loving friend for ever,

" ' WILLIAM/
" I also received this from the same source :

" ' MY OWN BELOVED MARY,

'"Do not upbraid me. Any sacrifice you have
made on my account I will not give you cause to regret.
I am dunned to death at the thought of "the bills," and
it all lies under a nutshell. I will show my love for
you in such a way that you shall not regret all you
have done for me, and I will repay it with love and
devotion. See that fellow in Oxford Street, and
tell him you will pay him in a day or two, and so you
will. I am not angry with you, my own dear love. I
will be with you sooner than you think. Your slightest
wish shall be obeyed ; but I cannot understand why you
prefer Mr. H. But I leave all to you, my love. Do
not get into any mob. I heard you were insulted by a
cabman in Oxford Street, yesterday. I wish I had
been there.

" ' With my fondest love,

" ' Your devoted and loving,

" ' WILLIAM/
" I also received this letter :

236 BUYING LACE.

" ' MY OWN DEAR LOVE,

"'My sweet, darling Mary, I called at Rachel's
to-day, and she looks as black as thunder. What is it,
my sweet love, my own dear one ? What you said last
night I thought was in joke. Is it the bill that has
annoyed you ? What am I to do ? I tell you again
and again that you are the only woman I love. You
have never been the same to me since you listened to
all the slander. What is it you want ? Write at once,
and freely. There should be no disguise, my sweet pet,
I love you madly, fondly. Why do you trifle with my
feelings, cruel one ?

" ' Your ever loving, and most truly devoted, and
ever^affectionate,

" ' WILLIAM.'

" 'What have you done to offend Rachel ?'

;'I had seen a man named Bower at the shop.
Rachel bought £380, or £400, worth of lace of him,
I should, she said, require lace, as all ladies had lace
when they were married. I have since paid Bower's
bill, but I have never seen the lace. I have never had
a yard of it. I received this letter with reference to
the lace :

" ' MARY, MY HEART'S LOVE,

" ' Is it your wish to drive me mad ? Granny
has my instructions. Do as she tells you. Four
letters, and not one reply. What is the meaning

"DO NOT TRIFLE WITH ME." 237

of the delay, at the eleventh hour ? Granny lent me
the money. You shall pay her, my own sweet one.
Get the lace to-day and fear nothing. It will be £35.
I will explain all to your satisfaction, my own sweet
one. I Lhave the acknowledgment for every farthing.
Granny is our best friend, so you will find ; we cannot
do without her until we go away. I have some pretty
little things for Florence, light of my heart. Your
sister and her husband have behaved very badly
towards you, if you knew all. I tell you, love, if you
are not careful they will divide us for ever. To the
Strand to-day. Leave all to me, my own love, and fear
nothing. If you have lost all love and confidence in
your ugly old donkey, tell me ; but this suspense is
terrible. I receive letters every day, telling me that
you only laugh at, and show, my letters. Mary, beloved
one of my heart, do not trifle with me. I love once, I
love for ever. Leave all to me. I guard your honour
with my life.

" ' With fond and devoted love,

" ' I am yours devoted,

" ' WILLIAM.'

"This letter had Lord Ranelagh's coronet and
cypher upon it. It was either his coronet or his coat-of-
arms. Madame Rachel took the letter from me and
would not return it. This is another of the letters :

" ' MY OWN DARLING MARY,

" ' Why don't you do as Granny tells you? Why

238 "WILLIAM" WANTS HIS LETTERS BACK.

do you put obstacles in the way of your own happiness ?
Sign the paper ; I will pay everything. My own
darling love, if you marry, your pension will be stopped ;
therefore, it will not matter if you sign the paper.
My own heart's life, I will pay everything. Not the
value of a coin shall be touched belonging to you and
yours. You, that have ever been loving and con-
fiding, why do you doubt my honour and sincerity ?
What motive can you have, my love, for retaining
those miserable scrawls of mine ? I requested you
to return them, and for the first time you refused
to do so. Mary, my love, if you have sent them to
your family, say so. If you wanted my life, I would
lay it down at your beautiful little feet. Mary, you
are my joy. I place your letters with your likeness
in my bosom every night. Granny told me she would
arrange everything to our satisfaction. Why need you
fear, my own sweet love ? I will not believe that
you expose my letters, darling. Say you do not, with
your own pretty mouth ! This week will settle all.

" '' Yours devotedly,

" ' WILLIAM.'

" I also received this letter :

" ' MY DARLING MARY,

"'I was ordered off at 11 o'clock last night;
but I would not and could not go without you, my
love. I would rather resign than leave without you.

THE FOX AND THE WELSHMAN. 239

Granny promised me the trial trip this week. Can
you possibly arrange it for one night this week, my
own sweet love ? Mary, darling, my health is giving
way under all this suspense. I have offered the money-
three times over, and they refused to take it. Granny
will see to this, and we can pay her when all is settled.
What you have done for me I will double with love
and devotion. Get the lace from the Strand ; you
cannot possibly do without it. Granny has behaved
very well with regard to money affairs, and she loves
you as though you were her own child. The old
fox is very clever, and will laugh at the Welshman.
If you do not be careful, and be guided by me, love's
labour is lost. The expenses will be £4,000. I am
working day and night to save every shilling for you,
my heart's life. Be sure to get the lace ; Stevens has
got the Post Office Order. What have you done with
my three letters ?

" ' With fond and devoted love,

" * I am your devoted

"•WILLIAM.'

" The sentence about the lace had reference to
getting it out of pawn, Madame Eachel told me it
was pawned. I do not remember whether she said
that she had pawned it. I always understood that
it was pawned for Lord Eanelagh. Madame Kachel
asked me to go to the Strand, and take it out.

" I received many more letters, but Madame Kachel

240 THE JEWELLERY.

always took them away from me. At the end of July,
or the beginning of August, she said it was necessary
I should have diamonds to marry Lord Eanelagh.
She said she would send for Mr. Pike, a jeweller of
New Bond Street. He was sent for, and he brought
the diamonds into Madame Each el's sitting-room.
There was a coronet and a necklace. Madame Rachel
told him what was required, and I ordered them.
She put them round my head and asked me how
I liked them. Mr. Pike said the price was to be
£1,200 or £1,260, I am not sure which. I had not
at that time £1,260, but I had some property at
Streatham. I negotiated with Mr. Haynes for its
sale. The property sold for £1,540. I wrote an order
on Messrs. Haynes in Madame Rachel's presence. It
ran as follows :

"'MY DEAR ME. HAYNES,

" ' "Will you kindly forward to Madame Rachel
£1,400 on my account.

"' (Signed) M. T. BORRADAILE.'

"I gave her various sums of money, as I thought,
for Lord Ranelagh, from time to time. After the
property was sold, Madame Rachel said I should have
the diamonds of Lord Ranelagh's mother. She showed
me an old-fashioned coronet, which she said should
be altered. Madame Rachel said she would get the
trousseau for our marriage. I ordered clothes and lace

LORD RANELACH IX COURT. 241

nnd jewellery. The articles were all sent to Madame
Rachel's shop. I have never had one of them. She
told me that Lord Ranelagh's servant would come for
some of them. I never could get any of the articles
back. She always said, when I asked for them : ' You
must ask the man who loves vou for them back.'

•/

I remember Madame Rachel on one occasion bringing
me a lighted cigar, and saying that Lord Ranelagh's
love for me was as warm as that. I executed a bond
and gave it to Madame Rachel in December. I think
it was to pay the sum of £1,600 to Lord Ranelagh.
She then took me to a livery-stable, near a shop
in New Bond Street, to select a carriage for my
marriage with Lord Ranelagh. I selected one. She

o o

said that Lord Ranelagh's arms would be painted
upon it. I parted with my money on the represen-
tations made to me by Rachel. This applies to
every sum."

This concluded her examination by me in chief.
Every one who was connected with that case must
remember the stalwart military figure of Lord Ranelagh.
He had been at the Police Court at the preliminary
hearings before Mr. Knox, and he attended the trial
at the Old Bailey, being accommodated with a seat
upon the Bench. During Mrs. Borradaile's exami-
nation he sat with a half-puzzled look upon his
face. The reading of the letters caused roars of
laughter in the Court, and his lordship joined in the
merriment.

VOL. I. B

242 CROSS-EXAMINATION OF THE PROSECUTEIX.

Mrs. Borradaile was cross - examined somewhat
severely by Mr. Digby Seymour, who commenced by
saying to the witness :

"I hope you will not think me guilty of im-
pertinence if I ask your age."

She replied :

" It is a very rude question, and it is of no use your
pressing me upon the subject. I was married in 1846.
The age of the bride is a question I shan't answer ;
but I was married twenty-two years."

Cross-examined by him, she went on to say :

" I have been in India, and have always associated
with people of the highest principles and rank. I
am acquainted with the style and usages of polite
society ; but I know nothing about business. I went
to Madame Bachel's in 1864, when I was suffering from
a little eruption on my face. I made inquiries, saw
the prisoner's name up, and saw the advertisements.
I had a conversation with her about her process. She
said it did not consist, as many persons had been
led to suppose, in stopping up the pores of the skin
with dangerous cosmetics. Neither was it in plastering
up the skin by painting the face, which must be
disgusting to all right-minded women gifted with
common-sense. On the contrary, it was accomplished
by the use of the Arabian bath, composed of pure
extracts of the liquid of flowers, choice and rare herbs,
and other ingredients equally harmless and efficacious.
She said her charges were from one hundred to one

MADAME EACHEL'S "PROCESS." 243

thousand guineas, though she was not going to make
me beautiful for ever then. She told me in 18GG
that her regular charge was a thousand guineas for
the whole process. I never took a bath at Madame
Eachel's house. I agreed that Madame Each el was to
have £1,000. I do not know what benefit I derived
from her treatment — very little. My skin is not better
now than it was. She gave me some soap and powder,
and something to put in the bath. My hair is all
my own in the native colour. I have used a little
of the Auricanus, that is, hairwash. I know that Lord
Eanelao-h's name is the Honourable Thomas Heron

O

Jones. I wrote several things at Madame Eachel's
desire ; but do not know what they were."

A letter was here produced by Mr. Seymour.

" This letter is in my handwriting. It is as
follows :

'"LONDON, September 23?rZ, 1866.
. " ' I, the undersigned, authorise Mary Eachel
Leverson to dispose of all the property she has in
her possession belonging to me : the bunch of seals,
ruby ring, gold chain and cross, silks, linen, and sundry
other things, of all of which a list has been given.' '

Several other documents having been handed to
the witness, she admitted that they also were in her
handwriting, and continued :

" I remember writing the following :

B 2

244 SHIRTS FOR HIS LORDSHIP.

" ' MY OWN DEAR WILLIAM,

" ' I shall be able to leave home with you to-
morrow at any hour you may think proper to
appoint/

The letter then went on to allude to some neckties
and socks which she had bought for Lord Ranelagh,
and in reference to which the writer remarked : " Thank
goodness they are paid for."

Mr. Seymour said :

" What did you mean by that ? "

The witness replied :

" I wrote it at Madame Rachel's dictation — every
word of it. I ordered some shirts for Lord Ranelagh.

O

Madame Rachel told me to do so, and I really be-
lieved he wanted them. It was at that time I
found out he was not very rich. I remember Madame
Rachel saying that Lord Ranelagh was my husband
in the eyes of the Almighty, for he had seen me
in my bath at least half-a-dozen times. What she
meant, I do not know. He never did see me in my
bath."

In order to substantiate the false pretences, it was
necessary for the prosecution to put Lord Ranelagh in
the box, and we did so, not only with that object, but
in order to give his lordship an opportunity of stating
upon oath what he knew of the transaction. Lord
Ranelagh deposed :

" My name is Thomas Heron Jones. I have been

A PERSONAL EXPLANATION. L'i:>

frequently at Madame Rachel's shop, but I never
authorised her to use my name in any way as repre-
senting a desire or intention on my part to marry Mrs.
Borradaile. I never authorised Madame Rachel to
request loans from her for me. I made no representa-
tions on the subject of jewels, and did not desire that
such representations should be made — nothing of the
kind. I am very anxious to see the letter stated to
bear my cipher. I have no paper with my arms upon
it. If I have any paper it is with the address of my
street and my monogram upon it."

This finished his examination-in-chief by Serjeant
Ballantine. He was then cross-examined by Mr. Sey-
mour, who asked :

" What was the attraction that took you to Madame
Rachel's ? "

His lordship replied :

" I stand in rather an unenviable position. I have
been so embroiled in this public scandal that I am glad
to tell you. I had the same curiosity as any other
gentleman to see the prisoner, who, I understood, had
been able to get a large sum of money out of a lady. 1
understood this from a trial which took place some
years ago. Curiosity led me to the shop. You don't
suppose I went there to be enamelled. Madame Rachel
had received different articles on commission, and once
or twice I bought two or three articles from her. I
have often gone in to have a chat with her, as I have
done at other shops. I think I saw Mrs. Borradaile

246 VERDICT AND SENTENCE.

once in the shop. I have no recollection of being
introduced to her/'

At the request of Mr. Seymour, Mrs. Borradaile
was recalled, and subjected to a further cross-examina-
tion, which, however, did not elicit any fresh facts
of importance. Mr. Seymour intimated that he did
not intend calling any witnesses for the defence, and
addressed the jury. The Judge having summed up, the
jury retired, and after an absence of about five hours
returned into Court, not having been able to agree upon
a verdict. They were accordingly discharged.

It of course now became necessary that the trial
should be proceeded with de novo. To go on with the
case that session was found to be undesirable, and it
was accordingly adjourned for a month, the prisoner
being admitted to bail in two sureties of £5,000 each.

The second hearing took place before Mr. Com-
missioner Kerr. It commenced on Monday, September
21st, and ended on Friday, September 25th. The
evidence for the prosecution was practically the same as
before, and at its close Mr. Digby Seymour intimated
that he proposed to call witnesses. This he did, in the
persons of Kachel Leverson, the eldest daughter of the
prisoner, and Leonte Leverson, the younger daughter.
In the end the jury returned a verdict of "Guilty,"
and the prisoner was sentenced to five years' penal
servitude.

CHAPTER XX.

SIMPLEX MUNDITIIS.

Madame Eachel again — A case that did not come into Court — A
lovely woman seeks to improve upon Nature — She takes a bath
at Madame Rachel's and loses all her jewels — Treachery of the
wicked old perfume-vendor — The victimised lady confides in her
husband — He seeks my advice — The decision we come to, and
why — Sergeant Parry and his methods — His popularity — " They
call her Cock Eobin."

IN the interval that elapsed between the time Madame
Eachel's case was remanded from the Police Court and
tried at the Old Bailey, my opinion was asked in
another matter connected with the accused woman. As
the facts are powerfully illustrative of the extreme
stupidity of vain women, and as I suppress the names
of the parties concerned, there can be no harm in taking
the reader into my confidence.

A West-End solicitor sought my opinion on the
facts here set forth. His client, a lady of fortune and
position, had seen the advertisements of Madame Rachel,
and though, as I subsequently found out — for she at-
tended a consultation at my chambers with her solicitor
and husband — she was an extremely good-looking and

248 MADAME EACHEL AND THE LOST JEWELS.

attractive woman, she decided to see if it were not
possible to improve upon Nature. She accordingly pro-
ceeded to the establishment in Maddox Street, and
entered into an agreement with Madame Eachel as to
what she was to pay for baths taken at the establish-
ment, cosmetics, etc. ; and I need hardly say that the
rapacious old harpy insisted upon being paid in advance.
One day the lady in question went to Madame Rachel's
house for the purpose of taking a bath, and foolishly
wore a number of very valuable rings upon her fingers,
diamond ear-rings, and other jewellery. On divesting
herself of her garments, in a dressing-room that was
a short distance from, though in the same passage as,
the bath-room, she took off these costly ornaments and
placed them in a drawer. She then proceeded to the
bath-room, leisurely went through the process that had
been prescribed for her, and presently returned to the
dressing-room. When she had finished her toilet, and
was about to depart, she looked in the drawer for
the articles she had deposited there, and, to her dismay,
found they had all disappeared. She rang the bell,
and upon the appearance of an attendant, asked to see
the proprietress of the establishment. Madame Rachel
was at once summoned, and upon being told of the
loss in question, flew into a violent rage, or rather, to
be strictly accurate, pretended to do so. She roundly
declared that she did not believe any jewellery had
been deposited in the drawer at all, and upon the
unfortunate lady insisting that such had been the case,

A WICKED WOMAN'S TACTICS. 249

and demanding the return of her property, the wicked
old woman turned round and said :

" It's of no use your giving yourself airs here. I
know who you are. I have had you watched. I know
where you live (giving the name and address of the
lady). How would you like your husband to know
the real reason for your coming here, and about the
gentleman who has visited you here ? '

The poor victim was so horrified by this, that,
losing all presence of mind, she hastily quitted the
shop. It was not until she had read of the Borradaile
case, in connection with the hearing before the magis-
trate, that she went to her husband, and told him of
the loss she had sustained, and of the despicable trick
that had been played upon her. The husband was a
man in an exceedingly good position, and, after dis-
cussing the matter with me in consultation, he came
to the decision which I think was a wise one — that
it was better to put up with the loss of the jewellery
than to face the disagreeable exposure that would be
inevitable if the matter were brought into Court.

One of the ablest criminal counsel during my pro-
fessional career was Serjeant Parry. He was exceedingly
popular at the Bar. Remarkably solid in appearance, his
countenance was broad and expansive, beaming with
honesty and frankness. His cross-examination was of
a quieter kind than Serjeant Ballantine's. It was,
however, almost as effective. He drew the witness
on, in a smooth, good-humoured, artful, and apparently

250 SERJEANT PARRY.

magnetic fashion. His attitude towards his adversary
also was peculiar. He never indulged in bickering, was
always perfectly polite, and was most to be feared
when he seemed to be making a concession. If in
the course of a trial he, without being asked, handed
his adversary a paper with the words: "Wouldn't
you like to see this ? ': or some kindred observation, let
that adversary beware, for there was something deadly
underneath. He was a very successful advocate in
criminal cases, and had few equals in trials of nisi
prim. Both he and Serjeant Shee (who was also a
man of strong build) were wonderful in cases of tort,
libel, and slander, and in actions at law ejusdem generis.
Parry was most popular on the Home Circuit.
Leaders and juniors had an equal affection for him. He
was a wonderful teller of anecdotes, fond of a good
dinner, and a great judge of port wine. For many years
he was a member of the Garrick Clubland numerous were
the pleasant dinners given by him there. They took
place in the little room opposite the smoking-room, and
at those dinners I was a frequent and welcome visitor.
He came to the Bar late in life. Originally he was a
librarian or custodian in the British Museum. While
in this office, he saved sufficient money to meet the
necessary Inns of Court fees, to enter as a student at
the Temple, and subsequently to be called to the Bar.
He first attended the Middlesex Sessions, then the Old
Bailey, and quickly came into public notice. He did
a large criminal business at the same time as Clarkson,

A PAINFUL CASE. 251

Bodkin, and Ballantine. I think that both he and the
last-named took the coif and became Serjeants simul-
taneously— at any rate there was very little difference of
time between them.

I remember being associated with Serjeant Parry in
a somewhat remarkable case, the details of which I do
not propose to give. The central figure in this case
was a man named Kisley, commonly known as "Professor"
Risley. He had acquired a considerable sum of money
by taking about the country, and to various places of
amusement in the metropolis, a band of gymnasts. He
was charged at the Central Criminal Court with unlaw-
fully attempting to take Maria Mason, a girl under the
age of sixteen, who lived in one of the alleys leading
from Leicester Square, out of the possession of her
father. I attended for him before the magistrate, Sir
Thomas Henry, at Bow Street. After numerous
hearings the case was sent for trial. Mr. Besley
conducted the prosecution, while Mr. Serjeant Parry,
myself, and Mr. Straight, conducted the defence. A
consultation took place at the Serjeant's chambers
on the Saturday previous to the commencement of the
Session, Mr. Straight and the solicitor instructing us
attending it. Though I had been the good old Serjeant's
junior on many occasions, this was the first and only
time he was ever angry with me. I am afraid I was
always somewhat impetuous ; but the impetuosity arose
through over-anxiety for the welfare of my clients.

The case, as it came out before the magistrate}

252 THE SERJEANT ANGRY WITH ME.

proved to be an}7 thing but a strong one, and it was
very nearly dismissed by his worship. I was certainly
under the impression myself that an easy victory lay
before us. Of course the Serjeant's brief had been
delivered before we met ; and he had, equally of course,
carefully read and thoroughly digested it. When we
entered the room to hold the consultation, I was some-
what surprised to see a settled gloom upon his counte-
nance. " Well, Serjeant," I exclaimed, " and what do
you think of our case ; a galloping acquittal, eh ? ' He
turned round to me almost savagely, and said : " Are
you going to conduct the case, or am I ? Hadn't you
better wait until you hear what I have to say upon the
subject ? ' I naturally collapsed.

During the consultation, the Serjeant expressed
anything but a sanguine anticipation as to the result.
The consultation over, we were all about to quit his
presence, but he requested Straight and myself to
remain behind. No sooner was the attorney out of the
room, and the door shut, than he turned to me and
exclaimed : " My dear Monty, when will you learn
prudence ? What on earth do you mean by speaking
about a galloping acquittal before the solicitor ! Just
consider the position you put me in ! Supposing I lose,
what will he naturally say, what will his client naturally
say ? — for he is sure to repeat what has passed — ' If we
had allowed Montagu Williams to conduct the case, we
should have won it, for he told the Serjeant that it was
a galloping acquittal.' It is nothing of the sort, my dear

A DIFFICULT WITNESS. 253

boy. I have had years and years more experience than
you. Never speculate upon verdicts in such cases as
these — a young girl in the box, too ! I assure you I
entertain a very different opinion, and if we win, it will
be by the skin of our teeth." Then, with a smile on his
good-humoured face, he added : " Now don't lose your
temper, you know you do on the slightest provocation.
What I say is entirely for your own good." Well, no
one could be angry with him, so I laughed, too ; and
Douo-las and I then left the consultation-room together.

o o

How correct the Serjeant was, was shown in the
morning. The trial came on, and the girl told her
story. She was of extremely prepossessing appearance
— young, fragile, and extremely innocent-looking.
She hesitated in giving her answers, and eventually
burst out into a flood of tears. The Serjeant was
sitting with his two juniors — myself on the right, and
Douglas Straight on the left — and as this scene in
the drama was enacted, I shall never forget the look
that he gave us. He was a master in the art of cross-
examining a witness of this description. Of all the
duties of a counsel, that of cross-examination is, in
my opinion, the most difficult one in which to acquire
proficiency. Few have excelled in it. It is a dangerous
weapon, and the true art lies in knowing either where
not to put any questions at all, or the exact moment
when to stop putting them.

The Serjeant handled the witness with great delicacy,
but he was unable to shake her in any particular. As

254 SEIZING A POINT.

he sat down, he turned round to me and whispered :
" What did I tell you ? " The younger sister of the
girl was then put into the box. Of course the whole
of the case turned on the question of the respectability
and previous character of the prosecutrix. While the
Serjeant was cross-examining the sister, in reference
to a male cousin, regarding whom some suggestions
had been made, the witness made the following reply
to one of the questions put to her :

" Yes ; I do remember his coming to our house and
asking for my sister. He asked for her by her nick-

name.''

Quick as lightning, the Serjeant seized the point,
and raising that ponderous forehead of his, and opening
upon the witness his great luminous eyes, he said :

" Nickname ? What is her nickname ? ?:

The witness replied :

"They call her Cock Robin."

Turning first of all to me, and then to Straight,
and with an indescribable look at the jury, Parry
slowly and significantly repeated the words : "They
call her Cock Robin." From that moment the case
was at an end.

Little did the audience know what subsequently
transpired as to her character. The story only shows
how deceptive witnesses of this description are. She
wore, it is true, every appearance of innocence, but
in her person she illustrated the truth of the old
adage that one should not judge by appearances.

CHAPTER XXI.

EHEU FTJGACES, POSTUME, POSTUME, LABUXTUR ANNI.

Police Court practice — Magistrates at Marlborough Street and Bow
Street : Sir Thomas Henry, Sir James Ingham, Mr. Flowers,
Mr. Vaughan, etc. — Story of the gentleman from Bourne-
mouth who lost his watch.- — -How the suspected man was
arrested and taken before a magistrate — The prosecutor finds he
has made a mistake — Sir James Ingham. gives a practical illus-
tration of human forgetfulness — An old thief at the back of the
Court perceives his opportunity and seizes it — Social reforms
brought about by Mr. Knox — The West End : then and now-
Licensing business — Excellent City Aldermen : Sir Thomas
Gabriel, Sir Benjamin Phillips, Sir James Lawrence, and others.

BESIDES the business I did at the Central Criminal
Court and the Middlesex and Surrey Sessions — where
I was often taken " special " — I had a very large practice
at the Police Courts. In those days, counsel were taken
into those Courts far more frequently than they are
now, and an important case was never heard there
without their appearance, either on one side or on both
sides. The Courts where most cases of importance
were tried were those at Bow Street and Marlborouo-h

o

Street, the latter taking the lion's share. The

256 SOME DISTINGUISHED MAGISTRATES.

magistrates at Bow Street were Sir Thomas Henry,
Mr. Vausjlian, and Mr. Flowers ; and in reference to the

O '

last-named, who was familiarly known as " Jimmy"
Flowers, I may mention that he was an old Temple
pupil of my father's, and one of the most kind-hearted
creatures that ever lived. At Marlborougdi Street, the

O 7

magistrates were Mr. Tyrwhyt and Mr. Knox. Sir Thomas
Henry, as chief magistrate, only sat in Court about
two days a week, for he had to transact all the Home
Office business, and hear the extradition cases ; the
latter being generally disposed of in his private room.
He was an excellent man, and as chief magistrate we
shall never see his like again.

There was no Bow Street Police Court in those
days. The Court was held in two private houses,
knocked into one, on the opposite side of the road
to where the present building stands. Near it was
the " Garrick's Head," where Judge Nicholson used to
preside over the mock-trial of the Judge and Jury.

The Chief Clerk at Bow Street was Burnaby, and
a most excellent clerk he was. I think that, when he
retired, he had filled the office for something like forty
years. Mr. Vaughan, before he became a magistrate,
enjoyed a considerable practice on the Oxford Circuit.
No man was ever more just and firm. He was called
to the Bar in November, 1839, and made a magistrate
in June, 1864. He is still upon the Bench, while Sir
Thomas Henry and " Jimmy " Flowers have passed
away. The successor to Sir Thomas Henry in the

THE LOST WATCH. 257

office of chief magistrate is Sir James Ingham. He

O

was called to the Bar on the 15th June, 1832, and
made a magistrate in March, 1849. He is now, I
believe, over eighty years of age.

A rather good story is told of Sir James In^ham,
though I am not prepared to vouch for its truth. The
incidents occurred — or rather, are said to have occurred —
soon after his promotion. A gentleman travelled by rail
on the South-Western from Bournemouth to London.
He commenced his journey in an unoccupied carriage,
and proceeded for a considerable distance alone. At
one of the intermediate stations — I think it was
Basingstoke — a man entered the compartment. The
train did not stop again until it reached Vauxhall.
On the way thither, the gentleman from Bournemouth
fell asleep. When the train arrived at Vauxhall, he
woke up, and put his hand to his pocket for the
purpose of ascertaining the time. To his consternation,
lie found that his watch and chain were gone. His
sole companion in the carriage was busily engaged
reading a newspaper. Turning to him in a some-
what excited manner, he asked :

" Has any one else entered this compartment while
I have been asleep ? "

" No," was the answer.

" Then, sir," proceeded the gentleman from Bourne-
mouth, " I must request you to tell me what you have
done with my watch. It has been stolen during the
time that you have been in the carriage. You had better

VOL. I. S

258 COMMENTS OF THE MAGISTRATE.

return it, or I shall have to give you in charge on
our arrival at Waterloo."

The other traveller, who really appeared to be
virtuously indignant, over and over again protested
that he was a gentleman ; that he had seen no watch ;
and that he knew nothing whatever about the matter.

When the train arrived at its destination, a porter
was sent to fetch a constable. The suspected man
was given into custody, and conducted to Bow Street
Police Court, where the charge was at once heard by
Sir James Ingham. When put into the box, the
prisoner repeatedly asserted his innocence. In the
course of the inquiry, Sir James Ingham asked the
prosecutor whether, when the train arrived at
Waterloo, he had observed anybody come near the
prisoner. The prosecutor replied :

" Yes ; another man came up, apparently for the
purpose of inquiring what was the matter/''

" Just so," replied the magistrate. " That accounts
for the disappearance of the watch. These things are
never done alone. Wherever a theft takes place,
whether in a train, a crowd, or elsewhere, there is
always a confederate to receive the stolen property.
Prisoner, you are remanded for a week ; but if you
are a respectable man, I have no objection to take
very substantial bail."

Upon this, the accused stated that he had no
friends in London, and that it would be impossible
for him to find bail, as he was a foreigner — or rather,

THE PROSECUTOR APOLOGISES. 259

an Englishman who had spent the last few years of
his life in foreign travel, having only returned to this
country a day or two before. Therefore, he declared,
to remand him for a week would be tantamount to
sending him to prison for that period. Finally, he
prevailed upon Sir James Ingham to take the case
again upon the following day.

Next morning, when the remands were called on, the
prisoner was put into the dock, the prosecutor simul-
taneously entering the witness-box. The latter wore
a very dejected appearance, and, before any questions
were put to him, he said that he wished to make a
statement. " I do not know," he began, " how to
express my regret for what has occurred ; but I find
that I did not lose my watch after all. I communicated
my loss by telegraph to my wife at Bournemouth,
and she has written to say that my watch and chain
are safe at home." He proceeded to say that he could
not explain the matter on any other supposition but
that, dressing hurriedly to catch the train, he had
entirely forgotten to take his watch from the dressing-
table.

Here was a pretty state of things ! An innocent
man had been dragged through the streets as a felon,
falsely charged, and locked up for the night. Sir
James, who is one of the most urbane of men, did
all he could to throw oil upon the troubled waters.
He said : " It is a most remarkable occurrence. To
show, however, how liable we all are to make these

260 WHAT AN OLD THIEF DID.

mistakes, I may mention, as an extraordinary co-
incidence, that I myself have only this morning been
guilty of precisely the same oversight as the one in
question. I was under the impression, when I left
my house at Kensington, that I put my watch (which,
I may mention, is an exceedingly valuable one) in
my pocket ; but, on arriving at this Court, I found
that I must have left it at home by mistake."
Ultimately both parties to the incident left the Court,
an amicable understanding having apparently been
arrived at between them.

The business of the Court over, Sir James Ingham
wended his way home. On entering his drawing-
room, he was met by one of his daughters, who
exclaimed :

" Papa, dear, I suppose you got your watch all
right ? "

" Well, my dear," replied the chief magistrate,
"as a matter of fact, I went out this morning
without it."

" Yes, I know, papa," his daughter replied ; " but
I gave it to the man from Bow Street who called for
it."

There had been an old thief at the back of
the Court while the occupant of the bench was,
that morning, giving an illustration, from personal
experience, of human forgetfulness. He had whipped
into a hansom cab, driven to the residence of Sir
James Ingham, and, by representing himself to be a

SUPPRESSION OF THE DANCING SALOONS. 261

bond fide messenger, had obtained possession of the
valuable watch, which, so far as I am aware, has
never been seen or heard of again, by its rightful
owner, from that day to this.

To Mr. Knox is mainly due the reformation of
the Haymarket and the night-houses which, twenty
or thirty years ago, abounded in the neighbourhood
of Panton Street and Leicester Square. When I
was a young man, the Argyll Kooms and the Holborn
Casino were in existence, the former, which originally
had been a dancing saloon in Windmill Street,
being the property of Mr. Robert Bignell. Upon
the ruins of the Windmill Street Saloon were built
the Argyll Rooms, which came to be the most popular
dancing establishment in London, being frequented
by all the young men about town, and the denizens
of the demi-monde. The rooms were opened at about
9.30 p.m., and did not close until midnight. They
were licensed for music and dancing, and for beer
and spirits, by the Middlesex magistrates. This con-
dition of affairs lasted until fourteen or fifteen years
ago, when, after a desperate fight before the licensing
authorities, the license was taken away. There were
several houses in the immediate vicinity which opened
and commenced business at about the time that the
doors of the Argyll Rooms were closed. In the Hay-
market itself, opposite to where the London Pavilion
now stands, was the Piccadilly Saloon. It had no
license whatever ; and it was notorious that, with

262 THE PICCADILLY SALOON.

regard to this place, and to the night-houses about
which I shall have something to say presently, the
police were induced, by some means, and for some-
reasons into which I do not propose to go, to per-
sistently close their eyes. Inspector Silverton was
the police officer responsible for the good or bad
order of the district. At the Piccadilly Saloon, which
was, as I have said before, an unlicensed dancing-
room, the fun would commence at about 12.30. It
was a small room, with a gallery upstairs. Some
one stood at the outer door, which opened upon the
passage leading into the dancing-room ; and half-
way up the passage was the man who took the
entrance-money. There was a regular drinking-bar
on the left-hand side as you entered, and at the end
of the room were three musicians, one of whom played
the piano, another the harp, and the third the fiddle.
The police were supposed to visit such houses as this,
at least once every night ; and what used to take
place here — for I have seen it with my owrn eyes —
was simply a ludicrous farce. A knock was given at
the outer door by the visiting inspector, whereupon
the word was passed : " Police ! ' Some two or three-
minutes were allowed to elapse, and then the inspector,
accompanied by one or two subordinates, entered the
building, lantern in hand. The interval of time had
been sufficient to enable all the bottles and glasses
to be whipped off the counter, and placed on the
shelves underneath, innocent coffee-cups being sub-

THEN AKD NOW. 203

stituted in their stead. Sufficient time had also been
given to enable the three musicians to vanish through
a doorway. This doorway was at the back of the room,
and opened into a sort of cupboard, large enough
to conceal the three delinquents. Here they remained
until the police, having gone through the usual sham,
of walking round the room, had taken their departure.

What I have said in reference to the Piccadilly
Saloon, applies equally to Bob Croft's, which was in
the Haymarket itself, on the right-hand side going
down towards the theatre ; Kate Hamilton's ; Sam's,
in Panton Street ; Sally's, on the opposite side of the
road ; and other establishments of a similar kind.
It was currently reported, when Inspector Silverton
left the force — which he did shortly after these dens
(mainly through the instrumentality of the learned
magistrate at Marlborough Street) had been closed —
that he retired upon a very snug competence.

Of course it is an open question whether the
suppression of places of this description was ultimately
for the public benefit. In those days, the exterior
— I mean the thoroughfares of Leicester Square, the
Haymarket, Piccadilly, etc. — was perfectly quiet. The
evil, which I suppose must exist in some shape or
other in all largely-populated cities such as ours, was,
to a certain extent, concealed from the public eye.
It is not so now. Since the late Metropolitan Board
of Works granted two of the most important sites in
the West End for the erection of the Criterion Kes-

EVANS'S.

taurant and the Pavilion Music-Hall, the thoroughfares
immediately adjoining have become, after closing hours,
simply impassable for respectable persons. With
regard to Piccadilly, it is getting from bad to worse,
and night is rendered simply hideous by street rows and
disgraceful scenes of all descriptions. I can remember
the old Evans's, which stood on a spot now occupied
by the premises of the New Club. It was only a
small room, with a recess at the further end. Paddy
Green was the proprietor. Of course, I am now speak-
ing of a time before women were admitted ; and
the songs that were sung by Sharpe, Eoss, and others,
were not always of the most delicate description.
Thackeray was a great habitue of Evans's. He usually
took up his position, two or three times a week, in
a particular seat at the back of the room, and against
the wall. Herr von Joel was an attraction at the
establishment. He will be well remembered by those
who heard him, for his imitation of the voices of birds.
He had a wonderful trick of playing tunes upon
walking-sticks, which he would borrow from persons
in the audience. To him belonged the privilege of
selling cigars. In the bills he was announced as
being " retained upon the strength of the establishment
in consequence of his long services." Few among
those who visited Evans's, will forget the rubicund
countenance, the dark silk pocket-handkerchief and
the snuff-box, of Paddy Green, or the extraordinary
method of arithmetic employed by Skinner, the head

LICENSING BUSINESS. 265

waiter. He it was who took the money from the
guests as they passed out ; and he totted up their
bills from memory with such remarkable rapidity as
to daze their very often somewhat hazy intelligence.

When I first began business, the licensing all over
the metropolis, which is a very lucrative matter for
counsel, was mainly in the hands of Messrs. Sleigh
and Poland. After a few years, however, when Sleigh
became Serjeant, the business was practically divided
between Poland, Besley, and myself. I never cared
for the work, but the fees were large, and the briefs
were numerous — circumstances which acted as gilding
upon an unpalatable pill.

I have known the law officers of the Crown, and
other most distinguished Q.C's., to be retained in
connection with the Argyll Rooms, Cremorne, the
Aquarium, and other kindred places. On one occasion,
when Sir John Holker was Attorney-General, he,
Poland, and myself, were retained in a case of this
description. A fee of two hundred and fifty guineas
was marked upon Sir John's brief, and I am under
the impression that all he had to do, with the ex-
ception of attending a few consultations, was to
address the magistrates for a quarter of an hour. For
this, he received in all about three hundred guineas.
A more unsatisfactory tribunal, in my humble opinion,
than that before which the licensing business came,
never existed. Where large vested interests are con-
cerned, influence is brought to bear in every available

266 FURTHER REFORMS NEEDED.

shape and form. Matters have been considerably altered,
a revision of the licensing system having taken
place. One of the consequences of that revision is
that licenses for spirits and beer are granted, in
the first instance, by the district magistrates, whose
decisions have to be submitted to a confirmation
committee, which is selected from the whole metropolis.
Matters even now, in my humble judgment, call aloud
for reform. I believe one-half of the crime of the
„ metropolis — certainly in such districts as Greenwich,
Deptford, Whitechapel, and Shoreditch, where the
heritage of the people is pestilential dens, hovels,
slums, and darkness — is largely due to the reckless
manner in which licenses have been showered about,
like pepper from a pepper-box, by the licensing
authorities. Personally, I am not one of those who
would rob the working man of his modest glass of

^> O

beer, but I am nevertheless of the opinion that, so
long as the present state of things exists in reference
to the establishment of public-houses, but little success
will crown the efforts of those who seek to improve the
condition of the people. The question is, who is to
move in the matter ? Politicians on both sides of
the House are apparently afraid to do so. The truth
is that the licensed victuallers are so powerful a body
that neither political party dares to offend them.

While speaking about the magistrates, I must not
forget the City aldermen. It is often said that it
would be a good thing if we had stipendiaries in the

THE ALDERMEN AND THEIR CLERKS. 267

City as well as in other parts of the metropolis, but
with this I am not at all inclined to agree. Speaking
from five-and-twenty years' experience of the City
of London, I am bound to say that the aldermen
do their work most admirably. Of course they have
capital clerks. When I first began to practise at
the Guildhall and the Mansion House, a gentleman
named Oke was the chief clerk at the latter place.
He was a man of very great legal knowledge, and
the editor of " Oke's Magisterial Synopsis," and
of other elementary legal hand-books. Mr. Martin,
an equally good assistant, was the head clerk at the
Guildhall. They were always quite able to keep the
presiding Justice straight in all questions of law, and
as, very often, at the Mansion House, cases of great
commercial importance are tried, it was very necessary
that they should have possessed the capacity to do
so. While fretting the law of the matter from the

O O

clerk, the presiding alderman, being himself a trades-
man or merchant, could bring to bear, in considering
the various matters that came under his notice, his
mercantile knowledge and general business capacity.
Of course, it is invidious to particularise where all
did their duty so well, but if I were asked to name
three of the best, I should say — Alderman Sir Thomas
Gabriel, Sir Benjamin Phillips, and Sir James Lawrence.

A certain gloomy day is well remembered in
the City of London. Some years ago, Gurney's, and
other large banking establishments, the Merchants'

268 SIR BENJAMIN PHILLIPS.

Company, and other great mercantile and discount
houses, suddenly put up their shutters, and stopped
payment. Criminal prosecutions followed, taking place
before either the Lord Mayor or the presiding alderman
at the Mansion House. I was quite delighted with
the amount of sagacity, power of cross-examination,
and sound good sense, displayed by Sir Thomas Gabriel
at the hearing of one of the extraordinary charges in
question, regarding which I may have something
more to say before I have finished these pages.

Sir Benjamin Phillips I knew both professionally
and in private life. He was a man about whom there
was no nonsense. He never claimed to be anything
but what he was — a plain citizen, and a self-made
man. Although extraordinarily wealthy, he was never
tired of referring to the day when he came up to London
without even the proverbial sixpence in his pocket,
and commenced life upon the very lowest rung of the
ladder. Upon one occasion he took me to the Commercial
Road in his carriage, and pointed out a little bead-shop
there, remarking as he did so : " And here, my boy,
is the place where my wife and I first began business
by selling beads." From such small beginnings grew
the great house of Faudel, Phillips & Co., whose
premises now occupy a great portion of Newgate
Street.

CHAPTER XXII.

PARATUS OMNE OESARIS PERICULUil
SUBIRE MAECENAS TOO.

The Shrewsbury election petition — Douglas Straight accused of
bribery and treating — "We all put up at " The Raven" — My social
duties as junior — Hardinge-Giffard would not let me smoke in
the sitting-room — I have my revenge, and Giffard has no
breakfast — The tactics I pursue in regard to the dinner —
Ballantine opens the case — The man with the white hat — The
"Dun Cow" dinner — A little joke from the Bench — Straight be-
comes, very angry with Ballantine — Four anxious hours — Baron
Channell gives a decision in our favour — General rejoicings.

I WAS junior counsel at different times in several
election petitions. The first was that at Wallingford,
where Mr. Dilke was the petitioner, and Mr. Vickers,
distiller — who had a house at Goring, on the Thames,
close to the place he sought to represent — was the
sitting Member. The trial took place before Mr.
Justice Blackburn. Mr. Merryweather (poor Bunsby ! )
and Mr. Poland were counsel for the petitioner, while
Serjeant Ballantine and myself represented the sitting
Member. As, however, the Serjeant has described
this petition at some length in his book, I do not
propose to refer to it, except en passant.

270 SHREWSBURY ELECTION PETITION.

The next election petition in which I was concerned
took place in 1870, and was a case of the greatest
possible interest to me, because the sitting Member,
whose junior counsel I was, was my intimate friend and
daily companion, Douglas Straight. The seat was that
of Shrewsbury. Douglas had originally gone down
to the constituency to assist the candidature of Mr.
Alderman Fio'sins, and he was so successful in further-

^> CD ^

ing the interests of that gentleman that he deter-
mined at the time that, should the opportunity occur,
he would contest the seat himself. The time came
for him to carry his intentions into effect ; and he
found himself opposed to a gentleman of the name
of Cotes. The votes polled were — for Mr. Straight
(Conservative), 1,291; for Mr. Cotes (Liberal), 1,253;
thus giving the former a majority of 38. Very soon
after this election, a General Election took place, when
the same two candidates were in the field, and Douglas
was again returned, this time by a larger majority
than before. A petition was then lodged against him
for bribery and treating.

The trial took place before Mr. Baron Channell, at the
latter end of December, 1870, and lasted four days. The
counsel for the petitioners were Mr. Serjeant Ballantine,
and the Honourable Chandos Leigh, who were instructed
by Messrs. Wyatt and Hoskins ; and, for the sitting
Member, Mr. Hardinge-Giffard, Q.C., Mr. Poland, and
myself; we being instructed by Mr. Frank Greenfield,
who was one of Douglas's most intimate friends.

PROFESSIONAL ETIQUETTE. 271

Of course the Judge and the opposing counsel were
bound to do their duty in their respective spheres,
but I cannot help thinking that they were, from the
first, disposed to entertain the hope that the petition
would fail. Douglas Straight was a universal favourite.
Again, who could fail to admire the pluck and ability
with which he, a young man only just called to the
Bar and only three-and-twenty years of age, had fought
so strongly contested a battle as that of Shrewsbury,
and come off with flying colours ?

The sitting Member, Poland, Hardinge-Giffard, and
myself, travelled together to Shrewsbury by the Great
Western. We put up at the " Raven Hotel," and,
save for the anxiety that we felt on behalf of our friend,
we had a very jolly time. I often think of a somewhat
amusing incident, involving some questions of pro-
fessional etiquette, which took place on the day of
our arrival at this ancient city. Hardinge-Giffard was
always one of the greatest possible sticklers for the
performance of the duties that are expected from a
junior. One of these duties on an occasion such as
that to which I am alluding, is to attend to the eating
and drinking department — namely, the ordering of
meals, etc., for the whole party, who occupy a sitting-
room in common.

I was an inveterate smoker, and if there was one
thing that Giffard hated more than another, it was
the smell of tobacco. Shortly after our arrival at
the hotel, I brought down to the sitting-room a large

272 HARDINGE-GIFFARD AND THE CIGARS.

box of cigars. These caught the eye of the future
Lord Chancellor, who said : " What are you going to

J O O

do with them ? " I simply replied : " They are my
cigars ; I brought them down, as I always smoke
after dinner." Giffard then said : "You certainly won't
smoke here." I merely remarked that sufficient unto
the day was the evil thereof, and that we would see
about that after dinner. Well, when the meal was
over, I — knowing what a good-natured fellow I had
to deal with — filled my cigar-case from my box, and,
with a grin, was about to light up. My leader at
once said: "I assure you, I am in earnest. As I said
before, you are not to smoke here." I replied : " Well,
where am I to smoke ? It would never do for me, as
counsel in an election petition, to go into the ordinary
smoking-room, where I might meet anybody ; and I
certainly do not intend to smoke in the yard of the
hotel." " I really don't care for that," said he ; " as
I observed before, you will not smoke here."

It was snowing hard. The winter that year was
a very severe one, and the weather was cold even for
the end of September. Nevertheless, the position had
to be faced, so, bouncing out of the room, I put on
my waterproof, and in a few moments was enjoying
the fragrance of my weed, as best I could, on the
pavement outside the hotel.

It was another of my leader's fads that he would
not commence breakfast until his junior put in an
appearance. The next morning I determined to be

A ROLAND FOR AX OLIVER. 273

even with him. I never ate breakfast ; he never
tolerated tobacco, so we were on equal ground. The
Court had to sit at ten.

In vain did the chambermaid come up to my room,
at stated intervals, with the message that breakfast was
waiting. Never before did I take so long over my
toilet. At about five minutes to ten I strolled down
to the breakfast-room. This, I knew, would leave me
just sufficient time to get into Court before the com-
mencement of the proceedings, for the Court House was
only just opposite the hotel.

I found Giffard seated in an arm-chair before an
enormous fire. The breakfast — grilled fish and other
delicacies — was placed in the fender. The tea had not
yet been brewed. My leader looked in a rage ; he
must have been only acting, however, for in all my
life I never saw him seriously out of temper. I knew,
he declared, just as well as he did, what his rules were ;
I knew that he had been waiting breakfast for me.
It was my duty to be down in time to make the tea ;
and, in consequence of my laziness, he would have to
go to Court without any breakfast at all. " But," I
casually remarked, " I never eat breakfast — I don't care
about it." " Well," he rejoined, " you are, I think, the
most selfish fellow I ever came across." " Oh dear no,"
I said ; " you forget the smoking yesterday. You don't
smoke. I can't see the difference."

He burst out laughing, and we proceeded forthwith
into Court. The matter, however, did not stop here.

VOL. I. T

274 VICTORY.

As I observed before, it was my duty to order dinner.
At midday, for this purpose, I interviewed the landlady
of the hotel. I ordered everything that money could
procure within the limited resources of Shrewsbury.

The dinner-hour arrived, and never shall I forget
the faces of my two learned friends as dish succeeded
dish in apparently endless rotation. At last Giffard
could stand it no longer. " Good God ! " he exclaimed,
" what is the meaning of this ; the dinner will never end."
Then turning to me, he added : " What in the world
have you been doing ? " " My duty," I replied. " You
are master of the apartment, but the dinner business
devolves upon me." And that night, when the meal
was over, I remained by the fire, and smoked my cigar.

It was on Saturday afternoon that we arrived in
Shrewsbury, and the trial commenced on the Monday
morning. When Serjeant Ballantine commenced his
opening, the Court was crowded, especially with ladies,
among whom the sitting Member appeared to be a
general favourite. The Serjeant began by paying a
very high compliment to his learned friend, Douglas
Straight. Proceeding to enumerate the cases of alleged
bribery, he suggested that several leading members of
the Corporation, who were Conservatives, had taken
an active part in influencing the voters, mentioning
in this connection a Mr. Groves, who was a popular
member of the Town Council. He exonerated Mr.
Straight entirely from any personal treating, and re-
marked that, though the borough was essentially a.

SOME OF THE CHARGES. 275

Liberal one, the Corporation was thoroughly Con-
servative in its character. He said that its members
had used influence of every kind with a view to the
return of the Conservative candidate, and that pressure
had especially been rput upon the humbler classes — a
circumstance that he ventured to designate as improper
in the extreme, and deserving to meet with severe
reprobation. He called particular attention to the
conduct of Walter Whitmore, a Captain of the Militia,
who it was alleged had, upon the clay of the election,
gone down the road to some men who were employed ex-
cavating some gas-pipes, and had treated them, afterwards
accompanying them, to within a short distance of the
polling-booth. This gentleman, the learned counsel
declared, would be clearly identified by his dress, and
by the circumstance of his having worn a white hat.
The next case, Serjeant Ballantine said, was one of
undoubted importance, and one in which, he was afraid,
his lordship would have to exercise his powers in a
way that would be anything but pleasant to the parties
concerned. The mayor of the borough and his sons
were implicated. The learned counsel next called
attention to certain cases of treating, more especially
to what he described as the " Dun Cow " supper. The
"Dun Cow," he explained, was a public-house in
the town, and Mr. Townsend, its proprietor, was an
enthusiastic supporter of the Conservative cause. A
reverend gentleman was in the habit once a year of
giving a supper to his tenants at the " Dun Cow."

T 2

276 THE " DUN COW ' SUPPER.

It was an extraordinary thing that the liberality of
landlords became very great when an election was

taking place. As a rule, the reverend gentleman
gave the annual treat to his tenantry at an early
period of the year ; but, on this occasion, the supper
had been arranged to take place on the eve of the
Parliamentary contest. The invitation to the supper
was, the Serjeant declared, accompanied by that which
was " likely to give the tenants an excellent appetite —
the shaking of a bag of money in their faces." After
supper Mr. Straight's health was drunk, and such
an effect had the bag of money, the meal, or some
mysterious influence, had upon the company that, though
it was composed of a number of persons who had always
voted Liberal, all present were suddenly seized with
the determination to support Mr. Straight — a deter-
mination which, the Serjeant added, had been carried
into effect. To judge, he said, from his own experience,
on a convivial occasion of that character, a bond of unity
was created among the guests, and they would have
been ashamed to look one another in the face if, after
what had occurred, they had failed to exercise their
franchise in the way they had promised.

The learned Judge here interposed, and remarked :
" There are some promises that are like something else —
they are made to be broken ; " at which the public in
the gallery, as is usual on such occasions, laughed.

Ballantine went on to refer to other cases of alleged
treating, and concluded his address at about four

AN AMUSING INCIDENT. 277

o'clock, having been speaking all clay. The Court then
adjourned until the morrow.

I do not propose to go through the evidence in
detail. Witnesses were called who in the main proved
the learned Serjeant's opening. Before the case con-
cluded, however — in consequence of certain witnesses
not being quite up to the mark — Ballantine withdrew
several of the charges. Considerable amusement was
caused while evidence was being given as to the "Dun
Cow" supper. In cross-examination by Mr. Giffard, a
witness was asked whether the company had drunk
the health of Mr. Straight. A reply having been
given in the affirmative, the further question was put
to him as to whether the health of the Queen had
not also been drunk. The witness said that he could
not remember, and upon being pressed as to whether
the "Church and State" had not been drunk, he replied
that he did not know what was meant by the question.
Upon this the Serjeant observed: "You are a con-
sistent Conservative ; " at which the occupants of the
public gallery again laughed.

Mr. Giffard called his witnesses, one of whom was
Captain Walter Whitmore, who positively denied that
he was the mysterious man in the white hat. My
leader made a most excellent speech, and, I think, put
the Serjeant rather upon his mettle ; for when the latter
came to reply, all the consideration for Straight which
he had previously shown, had disappeared. I am bound
to say, indeed, that the Serjeant did his best to win.

278 STRAIGHT GROWS INDIGNANT.

We found it almost impossible, during Ballantine's
address, to keep the sitting Member quiet. From his
seat underneath the counsel, he kept turning round to
me and vowing the most dreadful vengeance against
Ballantine ; observing that he certainly had not ex-
pected this from the Serjeant, who had been his
father's oldest friend. He, of course, also indulged
in the usual threat that he would never speak to
Ballantine as long as he lived. Altogether Giffard
and I had the greatest difficulty in suppressing this
hot-headed young gentleman.

The Serjeant ended his reply at about one o'clock.
The good-natured old Judge, looking at the sitting
Member with a twinkle in his eye, said that, as he
did not wish anybody to pass a sleepless night, he
would not adjourn the case until the following morn-
ing, but would give his decision at four o'clock that
afternoon.

The intervening hours were very anxious ones for
me3 for I felt as much interest in the issue as though
I had been personally concerned. At four o'clock the
Court reassembled, and from the good-tempered ex-
pression on Baron Channell's face, as he took his seat
upon the Bench, I felt convinced that all was well.
His lordship summed up with considerable force, and
in an exhaustive way. Having disposed of most of
the allegations, he proceeded: "And now we come
to the ' Dun Cow ' supper." A kind of cold shiver ran
through us all, for this was the rock on which we

£j *

GENERAL REJOICINGS.

feared the vessel might split. However, after giving
a strange ruling: of his own as to what constituted

O O

an agent, he observed, with regard to the supper itself,
that, though he did not think it sufficient to unseat
the respondent, it would undoubtedly have been far
better had it never taken place. In the end he found :
firstly, that Mr. Straight was duly elected ; secondly,
that there was no reason to believe that, at the last
election, any considerable bribery or corruption took
place ; and, thirdly, that the petitioners should bear
the costs. The result was hailed with vociferous
applause, the ladies in the gallery testifying their
delight by waving their handkerchiefs. The enthusiasm
was caught up by the crowds in the square, and on
the appearance of the honourable Member and his
friends outside the hall, he was received with successive
rounds of hurrahs.

In the evening, we all proceeded to the Music Hall,
where an enormous concourse of persons was assembled.
Douglas made a speech, and afterwards we adjourned
to supper at the house of one of his principal sup-
porters.

We returned to "The Kaven" at about two o'clock
in the morning. It was snowing hard as we proceeded
thither; and the joys of the evening terminated by
the sitting Member and myself having a remarkably
fine snow-ball fight around the gravestones in Shrews-
bury churchyard.

CHAPTER XXIII.

ECCE ITERUM CRISPINDS.

I am instructed to prosecute Eobert Cook, whom I have met
before — How he wronged the poor widow— She had no money
for a Christmas dinner — I "go for " the accused with a
vengeance — Ballantine can't understand it — The jury return a
verdict of " Guilty," and Cook's carriage drives away empty — I
sign a petition, and the sentence is mitigated — The Wood Green
murder — Description of the crime — The dinners at the Central
Criminal Court — A chaplain's choice observation — A jewel
robbery — How the thieves gagged the assistant — A theatrical
effect in the box — -The Stratford murder — A damning piece
of evidence — The murderer's confession.

IT will be well remembered that in one of my early
chapters I mentioned certain matters connected with
a money-lender of the name of Robert Cook. I stated
that I owed him a debt, and that I paid it with interest.
The circumstances under which this payment took place
I will now proceed to narrate.

A lady of the name of Hall considered that she had
been defrauded of certain property, and consulted a
solicitor. That solicitor sought my advice ; and the
result was the issue of a summons, from Marlborough
Street Police Court, against Cook, for unlawfully, and

HOBERT COOK AGAIN. 281

by false pretences, causing the said Hall to execute
a deed assigning her interest in some property to
himself, and for converting to his own use a certain
policy of insurance. I appeared as prosecuting counsel
at the preliminary investigation before Mr. Knox.
The defendant was committed for trial at the next
Sessions of the Central Criminal Court, but admitted to
bail.

Cook had become a man of very considerable wealth,
and he had a son in the army, commanding one of
Her Majesty's regiments of infantry. The money-lender,
indeed, had attained to a very respectable position, and
he kept up a large establishment in one of the most
fashionable squares in the West End.

While I was opening the case before the magistrate,
I could not help remembering under what different
circumstances the defendant and I had met previously ;
and it was easy to see that his memory, as to the
events alluded to, was as vivid as my own. The
case was ultimately tried before the Common Serjeant.
I conducted the prosecution, while Serjeant Ballantine
and Messrs. Metcalfe and Poland were counsel for the
defence. The story was a very painful one. The
prosecutrix stated that she was a widow, and that her
late husband had had some financial dealings with the
defendant. Five children were left upon her hands.
Shortly after her husband's death, she came up to
London to ask the defendant's advice on some monetary
matters. She brought with her a policy of insurance

282 THE MONEY- LENDER AND THE POOR WIDOW.

for £250 on her husband's life. Cook, it appeared,
-after expressing his deep regret at the loss she had
sustained, said, in reference to the policy : " Leave this
with me, and I will get the money for you, free of
expense." She did as he desired. This happened
somewhere about May, 1868. She went to him again
on the 10th of December. Her little boy at the time
was very ill, and dying. She begged him to give
her some of the money. He gave her a cheque for £50,
and made her sign a deed assigning over the policy
to him, the consideration money appearing on the face
of it to be £200. She was also induced to sign several
other papers. When Cook gave her the £50, he told
her to be very careful of it, as money was very slippery,
and soon passed through the hands. She deposed that
she did not know at the time that she was making
an absolute conveyance of the policy. Had she imagined
that the document placed before her was in the nature
of an absolute conveyance, she would not have signed
it. At the next interview she had with him, she asked
for some more money, and, after some conversation, he
gave her a cheque for £10. On this and other occa-
sions she kept asking why she did not receive the
£200 due to her. He was always very much annoyed
when she asked him for money, and finally told her
that the whole of the balance had been absorbed in
expenses, and that he could not give her anything
more. She deposed that she became miserably poor,
and that, when Christmas Day came, she had not a

BALLAXTIXE ASTOXISHED. 283

scrap of food for dinner. She applied again to Cook, and
die said that he was very sorry, but that he could not help
her. All that she had received for the policy was £65.

The unfortunate lady was severely cross-examined
by Ballantine, but he failed to elicit from her anything
that could be of service to his client. Other evidence
was adduced on behalf of the prosecution, and, Ballantine
having made his speech, I rose to reply. I did so with
a vengeance, and when I came to draw a picture of the
helpless widow with her starving children ; of the appeal
made to the money-lender to obtain a few shillings with
which to buy a Christmas dinner ; of how this appeal
had been met ; and of how, like a spider, this usurer
and extortioner had lured the unfortunate fly into his
web — when, I say, I drew this picture, I could see, from
the demeanour of the jury, what the result would be.

I had noticed that while I was addressing the jury,
astonishment was written large on the Serjeant's face.
When I resumed my seat, he turned to me, and said :
•"My dear Montagu, you've been desperately hard on
that man. I never heard you conduct a prosecution in
that way before." I could not help replying : " Indeed !
Well, the truth is, I had a little account to settle with,
that gentleman myself."

After the Judge had summed up, the jury returned
a verdict of " Guilty ;" and the accused was sentenced
to twelve months' imprisonment.

I should mention that when, on arriving at the Old
Bailey that morning, I passed through the courtyard

284 AN EMPTY CARRIAGE.

where the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs alight, I saw there
a magnificent carriage, to which was harnessed a pair
of splendid horses, and from which I observed my old
friend Eobert Cook descend. The trial finished late
in the afternoon, and, as I retraced my steps through
the courtyard to proceed home, I again saw the mag-
nificent carriage standing there. The coachman had
been instructed to return and fetch his master. The
vehicle, however, drove away empty.

A month or so after the trial a petition was prepared
for presentation to the Home Secretary, praying for a
mitigation of the sentence passed on Koberfc Cook, on.
the ground of his ill-health. His son called upon me
at my chambers, in a state of terrible distress, and
asked me to add my name to the signatories. I did
so ; and in about two months' time the prisoner was
liberated.

It was during the same session that I was retained
as prosecuting counsel in a rather remarkable case of
murder, tried before Mr. Justice Byles. It was
known as the Wood Green murder. The prisoner,
whose name was Frederick Hinson, was defended by
Dr. Kenealy, Q.C., and Mr. Warner Sleigh. Hinson
was indicted for the wilful murder of Maria Death,
who had been living with him as his wife for eight
or nine years. She had had six children by him.
Hinson had been very much attached to the deceased,
and was a sober and industrious man. He had always
regarded her as his wife, and treated her as such.

THE WOOD GREEX MURDER. 285

One day the woman went to London with a man
named Boyd, who was a neighbour of theirs. They
had returned between five and six o'clock. It appeared
that the prisoner, rightly or wrongly, was very jealous
of Boyd. Soon after the woman's return, she was seen
running along the roadway, the prisoner being in
pursuit of her. Overtaking her, he caught her by the
waist, and took her towards Nella Cottage, where they
resided. On arriving there, they entered, and presently
the report of firearms was heard, accompanied by a
scream. The two were perceived at the bottom of
their garden ; the poor woman was seen to fall, and
the sound of blows was heard. The prisoner was then
observed, a gun-barrel in his hand, coming from the
spot. He left the cottage, saying:

" I have shot her — there is no mistake. I will now
kill the other/'

He was seen to proceed, still with the barrel in
his hand, towards the cottage that was occupied by
Boyd. The prisoner entered the dwelling, and presently
he came out again, saying :

" He is dead enough. That's what happens when
a man goes with another man's wife. Where are the
police ? "

On the cottage being subsequently entered, Boyd
was found lying dead upon the floor, his head being
literally smashed in.

Hinson was taken into custody at his own residence.
He was found kneeling by the body of the dead woman.

286 THE DINNERS AT THE OLD BAILEY.

A constable said : " Who did it ? " The prisoner re-
plied : " I did." He walked quietly to the Police Station.

Hinson's advocate did all he could, but the evidence
was most conclusive, and the prisoner was eventually
sentenced to death.

It was a custom in those days for the Lord Mayor
and Sheriffs to give a dinner every Monday and
Wednesday during the time that the Sessions were
held, at the Central Criminal Court. The meal was
a very sumptuous one, especially upon the Wednesdays,
for then Her Majesty's Judges, who had attended the
Sessions, were the principal guests. The City Judges
and leading members of the Bar were always invited,
as well as any distinguished men — and there were
always some such — who had business at the Sessions.
The chaplair.-in-ordiuary at Newgate, was a stout,
sensual-looking man, who seemed as though he were
literally saturated with City feasts. Arrayed in his
clerical robes, it was part of his duty, when the
solemn sentence of death was pronounced by the Judge,
to utter the last word : " Amen." It frequently
happened — as it did upon the occasion of the trial of
Frederick Hinson — that the Jury retired to consider
their verdict, at about five o'clock, or half-past, in the
afternoon, which was the hour at which the dinners to
which I have alluded were given. The Judges, counsel,
and guests, would repair upstairs to these prandial
entertainments, and would frequently be called down
in the middle of their repast for the sentence of death

TRIAL OF MARTHA TORPEY. 2Sf

to be passed upon some wretched criminal. When
the death sentence had been pronounced upon the
man Hinson, and as we were all retracing our steps
to the dining-room, the chaplain-in-ordinary turned
to me, -and, in a voice that was broken, though not
with emotion, said : " Well, Williams, so you've
bagged your bird." I must confess that I was horri-
fied. This person was a very different man from
his successor, Mr. Jones, who destroyed his health
and utterly broke down under the severe strain which
his duties as prison chaplain imposed upon him.

A trial took place about which I got considerably
chaffed. It was the trial of Martha Torpey, for a
jewel robbery. It took place before Mr. Russell Gurney.
Messrs. Metcalfe and Straight conducted the prose-
cution, while I, with Mr. Horace Brown as my junior,
conducted the defence.

The prisoner, a very good-looking, engaging woman,
was exceedingly well dressed. She carried in her arms
a very pretty baby, only a few months old ; and I
think that this interesting little person had a good
deal to do with the subsequent finding of the jury.
I was chaffed because it was said that the theatrical
effect in the dock had been arranged by me. As a
matter of fact, I had had nothing to do with it.

The evidence went to show that an assistant from
a firm of jewellers in Bond Street, in consequence of
a message received at the shop, went to 4, Upper
Berkeley Street, taking with him five or six thousand

288 STEALING THE JEWELLERY.

pounds' worth of jewellery. The door was opened by
the gentleman who had called at the shop, and who
had given his name as Mark Tyrell. He apologised for
the absence of his servant, and at once showed the
assistant into a room on the ground-floor, whence the
two afterwards proceeded to the drawing-room. A
photograph of the man was produced in Court. It was
alleged to be a photograph of the man Mark Tyrell,
who, however, turned out to be Torpey, the prisoner's
husband.

It appeared that, when the assistant entered the
drawing-room, he saw the prisoner sitting there by
the fire. She remained seated while he took out of
his bag the jewellery that he had brought with him,
and which included a necklace of the value of £1,100.
The man admired this necklace, and said that he should
like his wife to have it, as well as other articles. More
jewellery, to the value of £2,600, was extracted from
the bag and placed upon the table. Torpey turned to
his wife and said : "I think your sister ought to see
these things. Go and fetch her." She left the room
and returned in a few minutes, remarking that her
sister would be down in a moment. She then went
quickly up to the assistant, and, getting behind him,
placed a handkerchief saturated with something over
his face and mouth. Torpey simultaneously rushed
forward and seized him, exclaiming : " If you
move, I will murder you." In giving his evidence
the assistant stated that he " then went off into a

MY DEFENCE. 289

kind of trance." On partially regaining consciousness,
he found that a couple of straps had been fastened
over his body, and that a cloth was tied over his eyes.
He heard the man say : " Quick, Lucy, give me my
hat." The next minute the street-door slammed.
After a little while, he managed to remove the straps
and bandage, whereupon he broke the window and
called for assistance.

It appeared that the prisoner had engaged the
premises by means of false references. At the time
of the robbery, according to the assistant, she was
most fashionably attired. Her arrest took place at
Southampton. All efforts to trace the husband had
been unsuccessful.

At the conclusion of the case for the prosecution,
I submitted that the fact of the prisoner being indicted,
not as a femme sole, but as the wife of Torpey, rendered
it unnecessary for me to call witnesses to prove the
marriage ; and that, as she had acted in the presence,
and therefore under the compulsion, of her husband,
she was, according to the authorities, entitled to an
acquittal. A long legal discussion took place upon the
point. The other side contended that as the prisoner
had committed violence in placing the handkerchief
over the assistant's mouth, she must be held responsible
for the act, in spite of the fact that her husband was
present. The Recorder ruled that it would be necessary
for me to prove that the woman acted under her
husband's compulsion. I therefore proceeded to address

VOL. I. tf

290 MISINTERPRETED GRIEF.

the jury, strongly commenting on the cowardice of the
man who had fled from justice, leaving his wife with
a helpless little infant in her arms, to bear the brunt
of the robbery which he had planned, and of which
he was no doubt at that very moment enjoying the
proceeds. The more eloquent I grew, the louder the
prisoner sobbed and cried. I thought at the time
that this grief was in consequence of the picture I
was painting of the brutal husband ; but I subsequently
learnt from the solicitor that she was grieved because
of the abuse I was showering upon the partner of her
life, of whom she was exceedingly fond. The woman
received a very good character, and the jury expressed
their belief that the whole thing had been prearranged
by the husband, and that the prisoner had acted under
his coercion, and therefore was not guilty. The case
created a great stir, and was mentioned in Parliament
with a view to a change being made in the law.

At a subsequent session, in the same year, a some-
what curious trial for murder took place. The crime
arose out of a burglary, and this is, according to my
observation, a very rare occurrence. Your burglar as
a rule does not kill. So long as he confines himself
to theft, he knows that the worst he can suffer is a
term of penal servitude, and he is by no means willing
to risk his neck.

The case I am about to mention affords, as I have
said, an exception to the rule just alluded to. Two
men, Campbell and Galbraith, were indicted for the

THE TELL-TALE SCAR. 291

•wilful murder of a man named Galloway. Messrs.
Poland and Beasley conducted the case for the Crown
on behalf of the Treasury authorities ; I defended
Campbell ; and Mr. Warner Sleigh represented Galbraith.
The Judge was Mr. Justice Lush, and the case was
known as the Stratford murder. The deceased had
lived with his wife and niece at Oxford Villa, Ilford
Eoad.

A great deal of evidence was taken, and the principal
question in dispute was one of identity. The prosecution
endeavoured to show that the prisoners had been seen
in the immediate neighbourhood of Oxford Villa on the
night of the outrage. Among other things stated by
the witnesses was that, on the day in question, Campbell
was observed climbing up the portico of the house, and
peering into the front garden. He was a very peculiar
man in appearance, and several witnesses identified him
by the mark or hole under his left eye. The evidence
against Galbraith was very weak, and so far as he was
concerned, the case was stopped before the prosecution
was closed. The principal witness to the murder was
the dead man's wife, and anything more painful than
her presence in the box has never come under my
notice. She was labouring under great emotion, and all
she kept saying was : " He had a scar on his face."
Every one turned as she said this towards the prisoner,
and there the scar was, sure enough. It was of course
damning evidence. On somewhat regaining her com-
posure, she stated that her husband, having retired

u 2

292 HOW THE MURDER WAS COMMITTED.

from business, was living on his means. On the night
in question, having securely fastened all the doors, they
went upstairs to go to bed. On a sudden they heard
a noise, which caused them some alarm. Her husband
went downstairs, and in a few minutes she followed him.
The street-door was open, and she went out into the
road, where she found her husband having high words
with two men. He was accusing them of attempting to
break into his house. She was positive that Campbell
was one of the two men. She looked around anxiously
for a policeman, and when she turned her eyes once more
upon the disputants, she perceived Campbell draw an
instrument from his breast. He drew back as if to
take aim, and then she saw the instrument strike her
husband in the eye. The injured man, with an
exclamation, staggered backwards, and fell to the
ground. The two burglars then ran away in the
direction of Ilford, and, on passing a lamp-post,
Campbell halted for a moment and looked round.
Immediately an alarm was raised, the neighbours came
out into the roadway, and the injured man was con-
veyed into the house, where he died before the arrival
of a surgeon. The witness went on to say that, shortly
afterwards, she went to the police-station and saw a
number of men together. Among the number she.
identified Campbell.

The unfortunate lady was in such terrible grief,
that I hesitated as to what course I should adopt in
regard to her. Finally I decided to put no questions

A CONCLUSIVE PIECE OF EVIDENCE. 293

to her. Fortunately, however, for the ends of justice,
she was not allowed to leave the box at once. The
Judge asked her whether or no she was absolutely
certain that Campbell was the man she had seen attack
her husband, and she answered : " We lived together
happily for years. I saw the man who killed him.
Do you think it possible, my lord, that I should
ever forget that face ? " The argument indeed was
conclusive.

In the end, Campbell was found guilty. Upon
being asked by the Clerk of Arraigns whether he
had anything to say why sentence of death should
not be passed upon him, he replied : " My lord, I must
acknowledge I have been justly found guilty. I never
intended to strike him in the eye ; the blow was made
for his shoulder, for at that moment he was holding
my mate. He must have moved, and received the blow
in his eye. I am sorry for it, and I hope that God will
forgive me."

CHAPTER XXIV.

INGENUI VULTUS PUEB.

C. W. Mathews : the best pupil I ever had—" Faithful William "-
The work a counsel in large practice has to do — Story of two
Jews who raised my fee — They expected a "nice long day" —
I discover a legal flaw, and their friend is promptly acquitted —
They are disappointed — " Flash Fred " — He is charged with
forgery, and I defend him — His running comments during the
case — He forgets the second indictment, but the Bench doesn't —
How " Flash Fred " got a railway ticket for nothing — Rumour
associates him with the theft of Lord Hastings' betting-book—
Remarkable speech by a Queen's Counsel — The countrymen in
the jury-box commence to weep — " "We finds for Muster C ."

AT the latter end of 1868 the very best pupil I ever
had came into my chambers. It was C. W. Mathews.
Some little while before, when I had been only a few
years at the Bar, Charles Mathews, with whom I had
been on intimate terms for a long period, spoke to me
about his boy, who was then at Eton. He said : "I
mean to send him to the Bar. I think he is very smart
and will do well, but I want you to grant me a favour,
and, as we are very old friends, I think you'll do it.
His mother and I have been talking over his future,
and we have decided that we should like him to go-

C. W. MATHEWS. 295

into your chambers. "Will you take him ? " As a
matter of course my reply to an old friend was in
the affirmative. I do not think that young Mathews
has altered in appearance from that day to this. He
was then quite an old-fashioned little gentleman, but
with all the manner and tone which I have always
considered peculiar to Eton.

He remained with me until 1879, and, as what is
termed a " devil," was of the greatest possible service
to me. In this book I had not intended to say much
about those who are still practising, but I must break
my rule in this particular instance. I always predicted
of young Mathews that he would take a foremost place
in his profession, and from what I have gathered, during
the last two years, my prophecy seems to be in a fail-
way of being fulfilled.

I really believe that young Mathews could tell more
about me than I am able to do myself, for he was my
alter ego. I am bound to say that any kindness I may
have shown to him in the past, was amply repaid by
the tender friendship that he showed me in the mis-
fortune that befell me in 1886.

My pupils generally turned out well, but I think I
may say that young Mathews was the best of the lot.
I often think of a story that he tells about a case that
took place soon after he was called to the Bar, and at a
time when I was in very large practice. It was a case of
conspiracy, in which two Jews were associated with the
defendant. I had been very much harassed one day

296 A BARRISTER'S WORK.

at the Central Criminal Court. I may say, indeed, that
no one who is not in the swim can have any conception
of the amount of work and worry that devolves upon a
counsel in leading practice at the criminal Bar. He
has to be at chambers at nine o'clock in the morning,
and, an hour later, he has to be at his post. Several
Courts sit simultaneously, and possibly he has a case
going on in each of them at the same time. He has
to do the best he can, with the assistance of juniors
and " devils." In one Court, perhaps, he will open the
case, in the next, cross-examine the principal witness,
in the third, make the speech for the defence ; and all
this while he has to keep in touch with the various
cases, and from time to time make himself acquainted
with the course they are taking. When the Courts
adjourn at five, he returns to chambers for consulta-
tions, etc., which occupy him probably until half-past
seven o'clock, when he rushes home to snatch a hasty
dinner, after which he reads his briefs for the follow-
ing day. Sometimes he has to keep up half the
night perusing his papers, and, not unfrequently, when
he gets to bed, his brain is too much occupied to allow
him to sleep.

It was after a particularly busy day that the in-
cidents occurred to which I am about to allude. I was
sitting at my desk reading one brief, while Mathews
and a fellow-devil were noting up another. My second
clerk, who had been with me since he was a lad of
twelve, was named William, and in regard to him I

A BRIEF FORCED UPON ME. 297

may remark, in passing, that a better assistant no
man ever had. I always used to call him " Faithful
William."

On the night in question, he came to me with a
brief in his hand, and said :

;<Case to come on to-morrow morning. Mr.

the solicitor" (mentioning the name), "is outside with
his clients. They are two Jews, and they want to have
a conference at once and attend it personally."

I was full up for the morning, but 1 looked at
that which always catches the barrister's eye, namely,
the endorsement of the fee on the brief, and per-
ceiving that the figure was not a very large one —
eight guineas, if I remember aright — I said :

' Take it back. Let somebody else have it. I
can't do it, I haven't the time."

"William left the room, but in a short time returned.
In his absence I had heard a conversation going on
in the clerk's room which grew louder and louder.
William said :

" Will you see them, sir ? "

I replied :

" Certainly not ; what do they want ? I have
already told you I'll have nothing to do with it. The
size of the brief is anything but commensurate with
the size of the fee."

"Well, sir," William said; "I don't think it's
a question of money. I think, if you will allow me
to suggest a proper fee for such a brief, the matter

298 THE OLD STORY.

will be settled. It will be parting with their heart's
blood, but I think they will do it."
Turning round wearily, I said :
" Do what you like," whereupon he left the room.
Presently he returned with the brief, the " eight
guineas " having been erased, and a much larger figure
put in its place.

" Well," I said, " what is the meaning of this ? "
"It's all right, sir," he said, "the cheque has
been paid, but you must see them. Shall I show
them in ? '

I assented, and the next minute William ushered
the two Jews and the solicitor into my presence. The
former were very polished gentlemen as far as grease
went.

My visitors having sat down, I perceived that
the alteration on the brief had apparently had a
considerable effect upon them, for they were as pale
as death. I went through the papers hurriedly. It
was the old story — fraud, conspiracy, and false pre-
tences. Owing to the rapidity with which I had
to run through the brief, I could gather but a small
insight into the matter. Therefore, when the two Jews,
who had been watching me intently, asked, eagerly :
" What do you think of it, sir ? "
I replied :

" Well, I really don't know what to say. When
is the case to be tried ? ''

li It's the first one for to-morrow, sir," they answered.

MATHEWS CHOSEN AS MY JUNIOR. 299

"Very well," I said, "I'll take the papers home
with me, and you had better instruct your solicitor
to have a further talk over the matter in the morning ;
say at 9.30. I must have a junior. It's quite im-
possible for me to be in this particular Court during
the whole of the time. I can be there when the
case is opened on behalf of the prosecution, but
I must have somebody to watch the witnesses, and,
if necessary, cross-examine them. All I can undertake
to do is to make the speech."

" Who shall we have, sir ? " said one of the Jews ;
" there is so little time."

It is contrary to etiquette at the Bar, for counsel
to name their own juniors ; nevertheless, somehow
or other, before the Jews left, my young friend
Mathews had been instructed as my junior. I think
it was one of his first briefs.

After the departure of my visitors, I begged
Mathews to run through the papers as well as he
could that night. There had, of course, been no time
to prepare a second brief, so I lent him mine, with
instructions to come to me at half-past eight on the
following morning and put me in possession of the
main facts.

Mathews did as I directed. He had evidently taken
a great deal of pains about the matter, for he had made
a most exhaustive summary of the whole case. On
going into it, I perceived that there was an absence of
technical proof, and that, upon this rock, the prosecution

300 ''A NICE LONG DAY ANTICIPATED.

would undoubtedly split. We went into Court, and
there found the two Hebrew gentlemen, who had secured
seats behind those reserved for the counsel.

Almost as soon as the prisoner had been given in
charge of the jury, the usher came to tell me that I
must go at once into another Court. As I hurried away,
the countenances of the two individuals just referred to,
were a perfect marvel. I knew quite well that the case
was safe in the hands of my junior.

He subsequently told me that he overheard one Jew
say to the other : " We're going to have a nice long
day to-day," whereupon the other replied : "So we
ought — we've paid for it."

The case proceeded, and as I knew exactly what was
going to occur, I did not bother my head about it.
Before leaving, I told Mathews to send for me as soon
as the case for the prosecution had closed. In due
time I received his message, and came into Court.
The present Recorder, then Common Serjeant, was
trying the case — which circumstance gave me some
satisfaction, for I knew that, among his numerous good
qualities as a Judge, he possessed a most technical mind.
I rose, and said : " My lord, there is no evidence to go
to the jury;" and I proceeded to state my objection.
The Common Serjeant listened patiently, and when I
had finished, said, with a smile (for it was a gross case
of fraud) : "Well, Mr. Poland " (for he was prosecuting)
" what do you say to this ? " No one in the world was
more capable of getting out of a difficulty than my

A EELUCTANT VERDICT. 201

learned friend ; but it was of no use. His lordship
looked at me, and said : " Well, Mr. Williams, I am
afraid your objection is fatal." Then he turned to the
jury, and observed: "Gentlemen, you possibly won't
understand what has been goinoj on. There is a leoral

o o o

difficulty in the way. The learned counsel for the
prisoner has taken an objection, and I am bound to say,
much as I regret it, it is a fatal one ; and it is your
duty — regardless of your conviction — under my direction,
for it is a matter entirely for me, to return a verdict
of 'Not Guilty.' I confess," he added, mopping his
eyes, " I'm exceedingly sorry, for a grosser case of fraud
during the whole of my experience, both as counsel and
Judge, which extends over a great number of years, I
have never known; but my duty is plain, and so is
yours, and you must return a verdict, if you please, of
' Not Guilty.' : The jury, instead of at once obeying
this mandate, turned round in the box and held a
consultation. The Judge, who was never guilty of
wasting time, then addressed himself to the foreman
as follows : " You and the jury must take the law from
me, much as you may regret it, and much as everybody
must regret it. I am bound to tell you again that you
have nothing at all to do with it. I direct you in law
to say that the prisoner is ' Not Guilty.' ' Upon this,
but with considerable reluctance, and with a face that
certainly was not beaming with pleasure, the foreman
did as he was directed.

The case having thus ended prematurely, I heard

302 ' FLASH FRED."

one of the Jews say to the other : " Call this a long
day ? Upon my soul, but we've been swindled." They
evidently thought nothing of the acquittal of their
friend. The mind of the Jew was, as usual, hankering
after the money and the money's worth.

It was somewhere about this time that a case oc-
curred which was somewhat remarkable, not so much
on account of the facts involved, as from the character
of the individual who was principally concerned. This
was a man very well known about London. His name
was Frederick Fraser, and on the racecourses, and in
the various fast quarters about town, he was known as
" Flash Fred." He was charged with forgery, and I
appeared as his counsel. In spite of the delinquencies
of this person, I confess I took a considerable interest in
him. This certainly did not arise from admiration of
his character — for a greater rascal never lived — but there
was something about him which influenced one.

There were two indictments against the accused.

O

The principal one, and that upon which he was first
tried, was that of forging the name of Captain Candy,
well known then, as he still is, by the sobriquet of
" Sugar."

The prisoner appeared in the dock dressed in the
height of fashion. He was exceedingly good-looking,
and would have passed anywhere as one of the youthful
sparks of the day. The case having been opened for
the prosecution, witnesses were called, and their testi-
mony being pretty conclusive as against my client, I was

THE ODDS. 303

instructed to put into the box a great deal of evidence
as to his character. That such witnesses should have
been forthcoming may, on the face of it, strike the
reader as a curious circumstance ; but perhaps I shall
throw some light upon the mystery when I mention
that those who entered the box were, for the most part,
tailors from Bond Street, Clifford Street, Conduit Street,
and other thoroughfares in the West End.

I struggled hard, but the odds were terribly against
me. Nevertheless, when I sat down, after delivering
my speech, I fancied I had made some impression upon
the jury. They duly retired to consider their verdict.

I was sitting in my customary seat underneath the
dock, and the prisoner leant over to me and said : " Mr.
Montagu, do you think I have a thousand to one
chance ? ' Turning round to him, I replied : " No."
When an hour or so had elapsed, and no verdict had
been returned, he again leant over towards me and said :
"I think it's a ten to one chance now." At last the
jurymen returned, and upon their faces there was not
that expression of sad sternness which so frequently
heralds a verdict adverse to the prisoner. While they
were taking their places, the accused leant over to me
for the third time, and quietly remarked : c< Sir, it's six
to four on me now."

He was right ; for a verdict of " Not Guilty " was
returned. " Flash Fred's " face beamed with delight,
and he surprised everybody by his immediate prepara-
tions to leave the dock. In this, however, of course he

304 CLEVER BUT DISHONEST.

was a little premature. It is not every prisoner who
would forget that there was a second indictment against
him ; but " Flash Fred's " memory was evidently not
his strong point. He was arraigned again, and the case
was duly proceeded with. The second barrel in these
cases is usually deadly. The trial was a lengthy one,
and the jury again retired. This time, when they re-
turned into Court, it was with a verdict of " Guilty."

Not addressing me, but apparently soliloquising,
I overheard the convicted man murmur to himself:
"Shocking bad luck — beat by a head." However
this might be, the whimsical occupant of the dock was
sentenced to five years' penal servitude.

In this connection I may relate another anecdote of
" Flash Fred." About a year before the trial to which
I have just referred, he was at the booking-office
of the South-Western terminus, about to take his
ticket for Chichester, he being desirous of attending the
Goodwood Races. He occupied a rearward position in
the long line of persons pressing forward to the ticket-
hole, and it chanced that, some little way in front of
him, stood George Payne. " Flash Fred " leant forward,
and touching that gentleman on the shoulder, exclaimed :
"Awful crowd behind here, George! Take a ticket for me,
please." Mr. Payne, being unable, owing to the crowd,
to see who it was that had addressed him, and never
doubting that it was a friend of his, took an extra
ticket, and handed it to the outstretched arm over the
people's heads. The arm might have been again out-

LORD HASTINGS' STOLEN BETTING-BOOK. 305

•stretched to convey the necessary coin to the purchaser
of the ticket ; but this is not what took place. Mr. Payne
heard a voice say : " Thank you, George. Ta, ta ! See
you at Goodwood ; " and he then perceived a man,
disengaging himself from the crowd, disappear through
a gateway.

According to current report it was " Flash Fred "
who, wThen the Marquis of Hastings had a big winning
account on the Derby, stole his lordship's betting-book
from his pocket. The thief, whoever he was, knew that
there were many thousands coming to the Marquis, and
that he could not settle without his book. Nothing was

O

heard of the stolen property until a reward of £500 was
offered, and then it was restored to its owner, in return
for that sum, on the condition that no questions should
be asked.

It is remarkable what the personal influence of counsel
will do with the jury, especially in the country. On
one occasion I went down to Worcester on the Oxford
Circuit. They were not my Sessions, but I was specially
retained. While I was waiting for my case to come on,
I witnessed a striking illustration of the truth of that
which I have just said. The leader of the Sessions

was Mr. C , who was afterwards County Court

Judge, and has since retired. These were the last
Sessions in the county that he would attend, for he had
just been made a Queen's Counsel. For a number of
years he had been a leading man in the county, and he
was a favourite with all classes.

VOL. I. X

306 AN IRRELEVANT SPEECH.

C was defending a man for horse-stealing, and

the evidence against the accused was of the most
damning character. He had been seen in the imme-
diate neighbourhood of the field from which the horse
was stolen, shortly before the theft took place ; he was
seen driving the animal from the spot ; and he was
further identified as the man who subsequently sold the
beast at Wycombe Fair. At the close of the prosecution,

C addressed the jury in something like the following

terms : " Gentlemen, I have been among you for a great
many years. I was born in your county, and my people
were with you for two or three generations. You have
always been friendly with me, man and boy, and I don't
think I have ever had an angry word with any of you.
A change has now come over my life. Her Majesty
has sent for me to make me one of her own counsel."
The jurymen sat with open mouths, evidently under
the impression that their favourite was about to be
summoned to Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle, or
some other Royal residence, to have a tete-ct-tete with

the Queen. Continuing, C said : "I shall never

address you again. This is the last time my voice
will be heard in your ancient hall." From the display
of pocket-handkerchiefs at this point, I am under the
impression that one or two of the jurymen were in
tears. "Let us part," said the learned counsel, "as
we have always been — the best of friends ; " and without
saying one single word as to the merits of the case
before the jury, he sat down. The Chairman of the

ITS RESULT. 307

Quarter Sessions, in the due discharge of his duty,
addressed himself to the evidence, ignoring entirely the
observations that had fallen from the learned counsel
for the defence. The jury put their heads together,
and, after barely a moment's deliberation, turned round
again. The foreman, with a peculiar shake of his head,

said : " We finds for Muster C ." The Chairman

informed the jury that their verdict must be either one
of "Guilty " or "Not Guilty" as against the prisoner;
whereupon, without waiting for their foreman, they all
shouted out with one accord : " ' Not Guilty,' sir." The
prisoner was accordingly duly released.

CHAPTER XXV.

AURI SACRA FAMES.

I become a member of the Garrick Club — Sir Charles Taylor — An
amateur music-hall performance — H. J. Byron and his troupe
of performing dogs — Tlie Tally Tailygrapli — The crime of
dogicide — Another election petition — Astounding allegations
— I get worn out and determine to go fishing — All the others
insist upon coming — My client couldn't fish, and wouldn't let
me — A midnight consultation — Exciting chase after an eaves-
dropper— We determine to throw up the sponge — I go to bed and
have a troubled dream — A frilled night-shirt — " When you meet
your client in h — 11," etc.

IN 1873 I became a member of the Garrick Club,
where I had been a frequent visitor previously. I
remember the days of the old building, when Thackeray,
Dickens, Albert Smith, Arcedeckne, " Assassin Smith,"
and Benjamin Webster, were members ; and a very
jovial place it was. The new premises were designed
by one of the members, Nelson ; and a curious cir-
cumstance was that, when the structure was nearly
completed, it was discovered that the architect had
forgotten all about the kitchens. When I joined,
the principal man in the club was Sir Charles Taylor.

THE GARRICK. 309

I am bound to say that he bad done a great deal
for the institution, by giving it financial assistance
before debentures were raised and issued ; and in
point of fact, he rather ruled the establishment. There
are a great many persons living who will remember Sir
Charles. His appearance was peculiar, being suggestive
of one of the parrot tribe. He was rather overbearing
in his manner, especially to those whom he considered
beneath him socially.

One day, on entering the club, he came across
Dallas — then a well known man on The Times —
eating his lunch.

"Well, my penny-a-liner," said Sir Charles, "and
how are you ? "

Quick as lightning, Dallas replied :
" Quite well, thank you, you one-eyed macaw."
Every one who remembers Sir Charles Taylor will
understand the allusion.

The Garrick has always been, and still is, the
cheeriest of clubs. Of late years a novelty has been,
introduced into the customs there, principally in the
interests of the actors — for the leading members of
the dramatic profession belong to the Garrick. The
custom to which I allude is that of giving supper
in the strangers' room, where one can take friends
up to an early hour in the morning.

The Garrick is the favourite haunt of Henry
Irving, Toole, and a number of others who are not

310 A NOVEL AMATEUK ENTERTAINMENT.

in the habit of counting the hours as they fly by
night.

Somewhere about the period when the trials to
which I have recently been alluding took place,
I assisted at one of the most jovial entertainments
that I ever remember. An amateur music-hall per-
formance took place at Woburn Lodge — the house
of my friends, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Lawson. The
lower part of the premises was turned into a hall>
with a bar and grill-room adjoining — the latter being
presided over by Spiers and Pond themselves ; and
three or four young ladies, dressed as barmaids, took
charge of the refreshment-room. Beer-engines con-
nected with the cellar, and the supper was arranged
precisely after the model of Evans'. A regular stage
was erected in the rooms that were turned into a
hall. Mr. Lindsay Sloper, the pianist, was musical
conductor. The chairman — seated at a mahogany
table, hammer in hand — was Mr. Edward Lawson.

I will describe some of the principal items of the
entertainment, so far as I can remember them. Poor
H. J. Byron appeared as Professor Byron, with a troupe
of performing dogs. They were small boys, borrowed,
I imagine, from Drury Lane ; and so artfully were
they attired, that they made excellent specimens of
the canine race. Byron appeared in fancy costume,
with a whip in his hand. A number of cards, with
something written upon each, were strewn about the
stage, and after the faithful creatures had gone through

THE SONGS WE SANG. 311

a number of performances — such as jumping through
hoops, and over chairs — various questions were put to
them, each of which they answered by picking up an
appropriate card. Thus, one of the dogs was requested
to state which paper he was in the habit of perusing,
and he replied by picking up a piece of pasteboard
on which was written "The Taily Taily graph." Another
question that I remember being put to one of these
learned quadrupeds was: "If you were tried for dogicide,
what Judge would you prefer to be tried by ? " The
card that was held up in response was inscribed with
the name of " Mr. Commissioner Cur." There was
a glee-company composed of Sir (then Mr.) Arthur
Sullivan, Mr. Arthur Cecil, Freddy Clay, and Billy
Pownall. I sang two comic songs, " Pretty Little
Flora," and " Immensikoff." Douglas Straight sang
41 Angelina was very fond of Soldiers," and "Good-
bye, John, don't be long, but come back soon to
your poor little chick-a-biddy." My wife gave, " Pretty
Little Topsy," and another ballad. Two songs were
also sung by Mr. Albert Levy, "Come and be a Member
of the Rollicking Rams," and " Champagne Charlie."
Mr. Alfred Maddick favoured the company with a
conjuring entertainment ; while Shirley Brooks, the then
editor of Punch, played the part among the audience
of the dissatisfied visitor who was always finding fault
with the performance. As will have been seen, I had,
earlier in my career, had a good deal of theatrical
experience ; but I can honestly say that this was the

312 ANOTHER ELECTION PETITION.

most successful entertainment at which I was ever
present.

I have mentioned some election petitions in which
I appeared, but there is one to which I have omitted

to refer. This was the petition against -, who was

the sitting Member for . The case afforded me

great amusement.

"We were told that the trial was likely to last
considerably over a week. It was summer-time, and
this had been one of the hottest years that I ever
remember. Good heavens ! what a town. Of all the
horrible places at which I have ever stayed, this was
the most horrible. A number of us appeared on behalf
of the sitting Member. My brother juniors and I
were located at the principal hotel in the town, while

our leader, Mr. , pitched his temporary tabernacle

at a town some few miles off. He had always had
the character of being a remarkably crafty individual,
and he proved the justice of the supposition on this

occasion.

According to the allegations of the petitioners,,
gold had exchanged hands freely. If there was any
truth, indeed, in the charges they brought forward,
of all the corrupt boroughs that ever existed,
should certainly have taken the palm. The highest
and the lowest were, it seemed, alike steeped in
bribery. As for treating, well, it is no exaggeration
to say that there could scarcely have been a single
sober man in the town, from three weeks before the

A DELIGHTFUL PROSPECT. 313.

election till six weeks after it. The "man in the
moon" had shone most brilliantly in every hole and
corner.

Mr. Justice Mellor was the Judge, and I think that
even he, who had had considerable experience in election
petitions, was astounded at what had, apparently, been
taking place.

Though I was the junior of his juniors, it is
my impression that our client depended very
largely upon me. The reason for this would very
likely be that I had known him and acted for him
previously.

I was not in very good health at the time of
the trial, and at the end of about the fifth day
I felt utterly worn out. I positively longed to get

out of the stifling atmosphere of , and I eagerly

sought an opportunity to do so. I had made friends
with the landlord of the hotel, and as the result of
some inquiries I put to him I learnt that, about four
miles away, he had some ponds that were plentifully
stocked with tench and carp. My delight was un-
bounded. Fancy 1 The prospect of green fields and
trees ; a fishing-rod in my hand ; a pipe in my mouth ;
and a comfortable seat by the banks of a rustic pond !
I arranged that, as soon as the Court rose that after-
noon, a brake should be ready for me, containing rods,
lines, and all the other necessary appurtenances ; and
I stipulated that my intentions should be kept a pro-
found secret from my colleagues. Immediately the

314 A FINE TENCH.

Court rose, I gave every one the slip, and, having
arrayed myself in flannels, proceeded to the spot where
it had been arranged the brake should await rne.
Judge of my disgust when, on approaching the vehicle,
I encountered the sitting Member, his solicitor, and the
whole posse comitatus. " Where are you going ? " they
all cried, "in this costume, too!" Well, I tried to
prevaricate, but I couldn't ; and I had to confess what
were my intentions. With one accord they all shouted,
"We'll come, too!" Good heavens! this was precisely
what I had been endeavouring to avoid. " Impossible,"
I said, " without tackle ; " to which my client replied,
" Oh, we can buy all that." (Of course, he was a City
man, very rich, and thought he could buy everything.)
"Well," I said, "I can't wait; I'm off;" and, with an
expression upon my face the reverse of amiable, I
jumped into the brake, and was driven away.

The spot to which I was conveyed was very
lovely, as, indeed, was the country through which I
had driven. No smoke, no din ; nothing but fresh air
and charming landscape. The pond itself, as well as
being picturesque, was, from the angler's point of view,
a most seductive one. I had brought plenty of bait,
and forthwith commenced operations. My initial efforts
were crowned with success, for only a few minutes had
elapsed before a splendid tench, weighing about two
pounds, lay upon the bank by my side. In a word,
I was getting on very smoothly.

Thus happily was I absorbed when I was rudely

A TROUBLESOME ANGLER. 315

aroused. The landlord of the hotel had driven me
over, and suddenly I heard him say : " Look you there,
sir ; here they come," and, to my horror, I perceived
two wagsronettes — containing all those from whom I

oo o

had so longed to separate myself for a while — rapidly
approaching. Never before had I knocked the ashes
out of my pipe so savagely as I did now. Here, then,
was an end to all enjoyment.

The whole party having alighted, the servants
they had brought with them proceeded to open
a number of hampers stuffed with bottles of cham-
pagne and other luxuries. Very pleasant, no doubt,
under given circumstances, but these were among
the very things that I was anxious to get away
from.

The dainties having been duly arranged on the
bank, the sitting Member began to fish. I don't think
he had ever had a rod in his hand before. He did
not get his line into the water at all ; it went to the
blackberry bushes. I am not given to using bad
language, but I don't think I should like to put down
here all the phrases that ran through my head. My
client could not fish himself, and so he wouldn't let me.
Just at the very moment when I was about, I fancy, to
have another tench, he came up to me, settled himself
comfortably by my side, and began (Heaven give me
patience !) to talk about the trial. Well, fishing was
of course out of the question ; so, in a towering passion,
I fiung down the rod.

316 A COUNCIL OF WAR.

A few days afterwards, matters in Court began to-
be very serious indeed. The case for the petitioner
was closed, and it had become a question whether the
mayor, one of the aldermen, and most of the leading
tradesmen in the borough had not been guilty of bribery
and treating. On the evening of the day on which
matters came to a climax, my confreres and I — in the
absence of our leader, who had hurried off to -
immediately the Court rose — put our heads together
with a view to deciding what course it would be best to
pursue under the circumstances. As we had dined
early, we were able to commence our consultation at
eight o'clock ; and we decided to sit up far into the
night if necessary. We determined that proofs of our
witnesses should be taken in a room adjoining the
one we occupied, and that they should afterwards be
brought to us. Our fear was for the men who were
to be called to give evidence, for it was obvious that, in
a borough where political feeling ran so high, if they
swore to facts that were untrue, they would eventually
be indicted for perjury. After we had proceeded with
our task for some time, it was made quite manifest
to us that the only thing to be done was at once
to throw up the sponge, and resign the seat on behalf
of our client.

My client and I sat up talking after the others
had gone to bed. The truth is, he would not part
with me. There we sat until one in the morning.
He was very much averse to resigning the seat, and we

THE EAVESDROPPER. 317

were talking the matter over in. disagreement, and in
rather loud tones. Suddenly he jumped up from his
seat on the sofa, and, placing his fingers on his lips,
whispered :

" Hush ! There's somebody outside."

I ran towards the door, and, as I caught hold of
the handle, I distinctly heard the sound of some one
scrambling over the banisters and jumping upon the
stones below.

There were several candles in the room. I seized
one, and told my companion to follow my example.

" Everything that has been going on here has been
overheard," I exclaimed ; and, saying that, I rushed
from the room and down the stairs. Then I paused
to listen. Everything was as silent as the grave. My
friend had not followed me far. Candle in hand, he
was leaning over the banisters, looking down anxiously
upon me. I searched the kitchen, and the whole of the
lower part of the house, but found no one. When I was
beginning to think of relinquishing my fruitless search,
I discovered a little doorway that had previously
escaped my notice. I passed through this doorway,
and found myself in a narrow passage which led into
a little sort of back kitchen. There, seated in an
arm-chair, before the dying' embers of a fire, I found
a man apparently asleep. Shaking him, I exclaimed :

" What are you doing here ? " He rubbed his eyes,
as though awaking from the soundest of slumbers.
"That won't do," said I. "What were you doing

315 MY TROUBLED DEEAM.

outside the door upstairs just now — listening ? I dis-
tinctly heard you jump from the landing."

The man protested his innocence again and again,
and with every manifestation of virtuous indignation.

Meanwhile my client had come downstairs. Finding
his way to the little back kitchen, he came and assisted
me to interrogate the man before the fire. In a little
while I went upstairs and called the landlord, and from
what he was able to tell me, I decided that the indi-
vidual I had discovered was none other than a spy
from the enemy's camp. I had gone far enough —
perhaps a little too far — in my zeal for the interests of
my client ; and I therefore left him and the landlord to
settle with the intruder. I may here remark that the
last-named was not seen during the further progress of
the election petition. Goodness only knows what became
of him.

I thought that, at any rate for that evening, my
troubles were over ; and I went to bed. Being pretty
well worn to death, it was not long before I fell asleep.
Then I had a troubled dream. I was industriously
fighting the petition, facing obstacle after obstacle ; and
while thus engaged, I felt somebody's hand upon me.
The next minute I had started from my sleep and
was sitting up in bed, rubbing my eyes. A truly
whimsical sight met my view. There was my little
client standing by my bedside, in a frilled night-shirt.
I know well that the vision will never fade from my
mind's eye.

STORY OF A WELSH ADVOCATE. 319

" Good Heavens ! " I cried. " Do let me have some
sleep."

"No," he said. "I've been speaking to the land-
lord, and I've ordered a post-chaise, and you must start

for at once. There, if you keep a sharp look-out

you'll meet your leader on his way from , and

you must tell him what has happened, and that I've
determined to retire from the contest."

It was a good deal to ask of me ; but I eventually
consented to do what my client requested.

When the Judge took his place on the Bench that
morning, my leader rose and said that, matters having
come to the knowledge of the sitting Member of which
he had previously been in complete ignorance, he had
determined to vacate the seat. And thus the matter
ended.

When dealing with the difficulties of cross-
examination, I might have related an anecdote, apropos
of the subject, about a Welsh advocate who subse-
quently became a Judge. The incident arose out of a
trial for murder on circuit, at which he appeared,
instructed by a country solicitor — one of the leading
practitioners in the town where the case was heard.
The counsel was a very peremptory little man, and
during the cross-examination he declined to put a
certain question to the witness that was suggested by
the gentleman instructing him. The solicitor pressed
him again and again on the point, but still he refused to
comply with the request.

320 A FATAL QUESTION.

"Well, sir," exclaimed the solicitor, at last; "these
are my instructions, and mine is the responsibility.
Therefore I insist upon your putting the question."

" Very well, sir," exclaimed the barrister, " I'll put
the question ; but remember, as you say, yours is the
responsibility."

The question was put, and the result was that it
contributed in a large degree to hanging the prisoner.
The sentence having been pronounced, the barrister
turned round in a fearful rage to the solicitor, and
exclaimed :

" When you meet your client in h — 11, which you
undoubtedly will, you will be kind enough to tell him
that it was your question, and not mine."

CHAPTER XXVI.

PER MARE PER TERRAS.

Risk Allah r. The Daily Telegraph — Taking evidence at Brussels —
Risk Allah's remark about the coffee — I accompany the Pro-
i-tireur General to a Belgian Court of Justice — He takes a pinch
of snuff from one of the men he is prosecuting — Serjeant Parry
opens his case — A difference between the legal procedure of the
two countries — Risk Allah's history — Finding the dead body —
The position taken up by the newspaper — Alleged accomplices in
forgery — Parry defines the issue — Verdict.

IN June, 1868, a trial took place that for the time
entirely absorbed public interest. It was the action
brought by Risk Allah against the proprietors of The
Daily Telegraph to recover damages for an alleged
libel. The case, which was heard before Lord Chief
Justice Cockburn and a special jury, commenced on the
14th, and occupied many days. The defendants pleaded
"Not Guilty," and lodged a traverse of the innuendoes
contained in the declaration. Mr. Serjeant Parry,
Mr. Baker Greene, Mr. Butler Rigby, and Mr. Dumphy,
appeared for the plaintiff; while Mr. Coleridge (now
' Chief Justice of England), Mr. Serjeant Ballantine,

VOL. I. Y

322 RISK ALLAH V. THE DAILY TELEGRAPH.

Mr. (now Sir) Henry James, and myself, represented
the defendants.

The libel was alleged to have been written by the
special correspondent of the paper at Brussels, in
giving an account of, and commenting on, a trial
which had taken place in that city on the 22nd of
October, and eight following days, and in which Eisk
Allah appeared as the defendant, being charged with the
double crime of murder and forgery. The solicitors
for the proprietors of The Daily Telegraph were
Messrs. Lewis and Lewis, the case being specially
entrusted to Mr. George Lewis, Junior.

Some months before the trial at Westminster, a
commission was issued for the purpose of taking
evidence at Brussels. Mr. Lewis and I proceeded
there, on this commission, as the representatives of
the newspaper, while Mr. Baker Greene journeyed
thither in the interests of Risk Allah. We stayed
at the "Hotel de Flandre," where a large room was
set apart for the purposes of the commission. The
proceedings took place before a commissioner duly
appointed by the Courts in England.

I shall give some idea of the quantity of evidence
that was taken when I state that the commission
occupied nearly three weeks. The plaintiff himself
was present throughout the inquiry. He was a most
remarkable man. His manners were exceedingly good,
and, considering the enormity of the charges that had
been brought against him, it must be admitted that

A REASSURING OBSERVATION. 323

he took matters very easily. The inquiry was more
like a reference than anything else.

The time at our disposal was so short, that we
found it desirable, as a rule, instead of adjourning for
meals, to have them served in the room where we were
at work. One afternoon a curious incident arose out of
this arrangement. I expressed a wish to have a cup of
coffee, whereupon the bell was rung, and a waiter
brought what I desired, and placed it on the table before
me. I was at the moment busily engaged in cross-
examining a witness, and Risk Allah, who was sitting by
my side, very politely poured out the coffee for me. I
turned suddenly round and saw him in the act, and
I suppose there was something in the expression of my
face that arrested his attention, for, with the sweetest
possible smile on his face, he asked whether I took milk,
and then, looking me hard in the face, added : "I
assure you you need not be afraid, sir. I have put
nothing in it."

The commission at length came to an end, and
George Lewis and I returned to London, bringing with
us the depositions that were to be used at the forth-
coming trial in the Court of Queen's Bench. I confess
that I enjoyed my stay in the Belgian capital. It is a
charming place, and I have often determined to revisit it.
While there, Mr. George Lewis and I received very great
assistance from the Procureur General, who had been
the counsel for the prosecution at the trial for murder
and forgery. Mr. Lewis had a letter of introduction

Y 2

324 A CONTRAST.

to him, and he showed us every kindness and hospitality.
The new Palais de Justice, which, to judge from the
picture of it I have seen, is one of the noblest and
handsomest buildings in the town, was then unfinished,
though even while in an incomplete condition, it gave
promise of its future beauty. At that time, the Courts
were held in a somewhat antiquated edifice. The
Procureur General conducted me there one day, so that
I might have an opportunity of seeing how the law was
administered in Belgium. On the occasion in question,
he was prosecuting two men for fraudulent bankruptcy,
and, in order that I might the more closely follow the
proceedings, I was accommodated with a seat by his
side.

Three Judges sat upon the Bench during the hearing
of the case. The Court was so arranged that the
dock — where the prisoners, by-the-bye, were comfort-
ably seated — was immediately behind the bench at
which the Procureur General stood while he opened
his case. In perhaps the most damning part of his
accusation against the two defendants, one of them
produced from his pocket a snuff-box, and took there-
from a huge pinch of snuff. As he did so, the Procureur
General turned round and, with a smile and the word
" Pardon," also took a pinch from the box ; after which
he concluded the sentence that had been for the moment
interrupted. Imagine such a thing in an English Court
of Justice ! But they do strange things abroad.

In opening his case before the Chief Justice at

PARRY'S OPENING. 325

Westminster, Serjeant Parry characterised the narrative
he was about to unfold as one of the most extraordi-
nary that was ever listened to in a Court of Justice,
fruitful as the Courts of all nations were in interest
and romance. In a few preliminary sentences he called
attention to the difference between legal procedure in
this country and abroad. In England, Risk Allah
could only have been tried for one of the crimes at a
time, whereas, in Belgium and France, the Procureur
General could include in the acte d' accusation as many
charges as he liked, however dissimilar they might be
in character. Parry went on to say that, after the
Belgium trial had lasted for nine days, and after seventy
witnesses had been examined, his client had been trium-
phantly acquitted. All the leading foreign newspapers,
English and otherwise, had been represented at that
trial, and among the number The Daily Telegraph,
which was, perhaps, the most influential organ in this
country, and certainly the most widely read. The
special correspondent of TJie Daily Telegraph, con-
tinued Parry, had all along in his reports, as would be
seen when extracts came to be read, assumed the
guilt of the accused, about whom, indeed, he had
printed the grossest libels and calumnies. At the end
of the trial, when the innocence of Risk Allah had
been established and demonstrated, a leading article

o

appeared in the paper actually reiterating all the charges,
and containing, not exactly a bold statement that they
were true, but innuendoes pointing unmistakably to

326 RISK ALLAH'S HISTORY.

the conclusion that the writer believed Eisk Allah
to be a murderer and a forger.

Parry next addressed himself to the character of his
client. By birth an Assyrian, he had been educated
for the Greek Church. Altering his intentions as to
the profession he would adopt, he came to England
to study medicine, walked the hospitals, passed at the
College of Surgeons, and became an associate of the
medical school at King's College. Afterwards, during
the Crimean War, he was appointed by the Duke of
Newcastle, then Secretary for War, to the position of a
medical officer on the staff of Omer Pasha ; and, in
recognition of his services, he was awarded the Crimean
Medal of England and Turkey. Keturning to this
country in 1856, he at once married a widow of the name
of Lewis. He simultaneously became acquainted with
a young man named Charles Readley, who was, it
was believed, the natural child of his wife's sister.
Mrs. Lewis was possessed of a considerable fortune,
and marriage settlements were prepared by which,
inter alia, Eeadley was to be paid a sum of £5,000
upon attaining his majority. In 1859, Risk Allah's
wife became ill, and, after going to Germany, to drink
the waters, on the advice of Sir William Fergusson and
Dr. Ramsbotham, she died.

Serjeant Parry next commented upon the fact that,
in a Continental Court of Justice, when a particular
accusation is brought against an individual, it is com-
petent for the counsel for the prosecution to rake up

LOVE AND DEATH. 327

anything of a damaging character in the past life of
that individual. "Accordingly," said the Serjeant, "in
this acte ^accusation it was insinuated that Risk Allah
had murdered his wife, and it was actually so stated
by the Public Prosecutor at his trial ; the charge being-
reiterated in the libels published in The Daily Telegraph.
After his wife's death, Risk Allah of course came into
possession of her property. Risk Allah had, in 1861,
been appointed guardian of Charles Readley, by the Court
of Chancery, and the young man being anxious to go to
sea, went either to the East or West Indies ; and in the
acte d'accusation, they had actually charged Risk Allah
with sending him there for the purpose of accomplishing
his death. Readley subsequently returned to Spa, where
he fell in love with a young lady of the name of Aikin.
Risk Allah was anxious to promote the suit in every
way;; but Readley gambled, exceeded his income, and, in
point of fact, was rapidly going to the bad. It was
alleged that, in 1865, Mrs. Aikin, the mother, showed
herself averse to the match, and was determined to
break it off. This seemed to make a deep impression
upon the mind of the young man, and events culmi-
nated in the terrible deed which closed his career. On
the morniug of the 30th of March, 1865, he was found
shot in his bedroom, the bullet having passed from the
left-hand side of the jaw to the right ear. The chamber-
maid had seen him asleep in bed at seven o'clock. That
same morning, Risk Allah was called early, and, at half-
past seven he was seen coming downstairs and going

328 MURDER OR SUICIDE ?

out of the hotel ; and he did not return until past nine.
On his arrival, he inquired if the doctor had been to see
his nephew, and on being told by the landlord that the
bell of Keadley's bed-chamber had not been rung, he
proceeded to the young man's room — number seven.
He tried the door, but found it was locked. He
looked through the keyhole, and, as he saw smoke and
smelt it, he cried : ' Help ! Help ! ' at which everybody
ran upstairs. On breaking open the door, a sad spec-
tacle met their gaze. The young man was lying dead
in bed, and perfectly naked. Eisk Allah tenderly
placed the coverlet upon the body. A gun was seen
beside the bed, and on the table was found a slip of
paper, on which were written these words : ' I've done
it.' "

The learned counsel next addressed himself to the
merits of the trial that took place abroad. He said :

" The whole question was, whether this was a
murder or a suicide, and a great deal depended upon
the position of the body, of the gun, and of the wound.
A commission has been granted from these Courts, and
a great volume of evidence has been taken. The
witnesses have been examined and cross-examined by
Mr. Montagu Williams on the one side, and Mr. Baker
Greene on the other. The whole of that evidence has
been returned in the form of depositions, and it will
be laid before the jury during the trial. . . . Eisk
Allah always declared it to be a suicide ; the magistrate
who examined him declared it to be a suicide ; the

AN UNFORTUNATE FRIENDSHIP. 329

jury who tried him in Brussels declared it to be a
suicide ; but The Daily Telegraph insisted by their
innuendoes that it was a murder. ... Of course it
will be asked whether Kisk Allah gained anything by
the death of the boy. The answer is that he did. He
was the residuary legatee, and was entitled on the boy's
death to the £5,000."

The Serjeant next referred to the alleged forgery,
and stated that Bisk Allah had become acquainted with
a man named Osborne Affendi, and that, believing him
to be a man of high position in the mercantile world,
and a gentleman, he had placed the most implicit con-
fidence in him. This man, however, turned out to be a
most experienced and abandoned forger ; and Bisk
Allah became his dupe on several occasions. Those
were the facts ; but it had been alleged at the trial,
and afterwards repeated by The Daily Telegraph,
that Osborne Affendi and Bisk Allah were accomplices
in forgery- This acquaintance with Affendi had, the
learned counsel declared, been the most unfortunate
circumstances in his client's career. It had led to his
arrest in Paris, and to his subsequent trial at Brussels.

Coming to the defence, Parry said :

" The defendants, by their plea, have said they are
not guilty of publishing the libel. They do not say
they are justified in publishing it because it is true —
which they might have done — but they put forward what
is an evasive plea. They will endeavour to induce you
to say that Bisk Allah was really guilty of the offence ;

330 THE LARGEST CIRCULATION.

that o-eneral evidence warranted them in thinking him

o a

so ; that the comments were such as an honest and
impartial journalist might make. This is really the
issue you will have to try."

Parry then read the various passages from The Daily
Telegraph, on which he relied, and finished his opening
by saying : "Now, in actual terms, there is not a direct
statement against the plaintiff; but by insinuation and
innuendo there is. What the plaintiff complains of
is the account given of the trial by the correspondent,
and by the writer of the leading article. They are
both shrouded in that anonymity in which writers of
the Press desire to screen themselves, and no doubt
they will not appear to tell you — the one, whether
he was in Court during the trial ; the other, whether
he wrote from honest conviction. Bisk Allah has not
to contend with living witnesses, but with The Daily
Telegraph. Gentlemen, The Daily Telegraph boasts,
and probably truthfully boasts, of having the largest
circulation of any paper in the world ; wherever it
reaches, these slanders have been read and have
been commented upon in a spirit not favourable
to my client. The forces against him are almost
overwhelming. I hope we shall hear nothing about
the liberty of the Press in this inquiry. The ques-
tion is not that liberty, but whether the Press has
improperly invaded private character, and whether
it has — after a man's life has undergone a great public
investigation by a thoroughly competent tribunal,, and

PARRY'S PERORATION. 331

lie lias been declared innocent of the charges brought
against him — attacked and assailed him again, and
reiterated the charges. If Bisk Allah had been guilty,
there was nothing for him to do but to retire into
such obscurity as he might be able to find. If he
were conscious of guilt, would he have taken the course
he has now adopted ? From the moment that he was
questioned by the French spy — who, when he was
originally arrested at Brussels, visited his dungeon for
the purpose of interrogating him — down to the present
time, he has asserted his innocence, and done every-
thing that was possible to convince others of it. He
has challenged a powerful newspaper in this country
to attempt to prove his guilt, and he conies before
you for the vindication of his character. He tenders
himself for a severe inquiry into his whole life. That
inquiry will be made by some of the ablest counsel
at the Bar, who are arrayed against him. Gentlemen,
you will have to decide between the defendants who
have sullied, and him whose character has been sullied ;
you will have to say where truth and justice lie between
these two parties, and I believe that the most fearless
man in the Court is my client, Risk Allah, who has
heard everything that has been said ; and I cannot
help believing that that fearlessness springs from a
consciousness of his innocence."

The first witness called was Eisk Allah himself,
and he was examined and cross-examined at enormous
length. The cross-examination, indeed, lasted for several

332 THE VERDICT.

days. The depositions from Brussels were then read,
and other witnesses were called. The evidence at an
end, Serjeant Parry proceeded to review it, and on
the afternoon of June 20th, Mr. Coleridge commenced
his speech for the defendant, and a most exhaustive
speech it was. The Lord Chief Justice afterwards
summed up ; and those who were present, and had
known his lordship both as an advocate and a Judge,
characterised the summing-up as a masterpiece, even
for him. The jury retired to consider their verdict,
and after an absence of two hours they returned into
Court. The foreman stated that they had agreed that
the verdict should be for the plaintiff, but that on
the matter of damnges they were eleven to one. He
asked whether counsel on both sides would accept the
verdict of the eleven. It so happened that I was
the only person present representing the defendants ;
and though Mr. Baker Greene assented to the verdict,
I, in the absence of my leaders, declined the responsi-
bility of doing so. The jury accordingly again retired,
and returned half an hour later, with a verdict for the
plaintiff upon both issues, damages being given at £960.

CHAPTER XXVII.

ADHUC SUB JUDICE LIS EST.

Long cases and large fees : Mr. Coleridge's observation — Chief Justice
Cockburn's remarks about the Press — What another Chief
Justice said: "Who is Mr. Corney Grain 1"—TJie Daily TrJr-
</f<(ph's leading article — The necessity for a Court of Criminal
Appeal — Instances of how it would have been useful — Should
defended prisoners address the jury 1

IT was during the progress of the Risk Allah trial that
Mr. Coleridge, who was then in very large practice,
turning to me, said :

" When you have had my experience at the Bar,
you will pray not to be afflicted with these long trials.
They never pay, large as the fees may be, and they
keep you out of every other business."

Another matter to which I cannot help alluding
was the charming manner in which Chief Justice Cock-
burn, during the trial, went out of his way to praise
the Press of this country generally, and to gracefully
allude to the manner iti which The Daily Telegraph
was conducted. How different from another Chief
Justice who subsequently observed in another trial :
"I never read The Daily Telegraph" But then the

334 COMMENTS IN THE DAILY TELEGRAPH.

same authority, during the same trial, observed : " Who
is Mr. Corney Grain '? I never heard of Mr. Corney
Grain ! "

In the issue in which The Daily Telegraph recorded
the result of the trial, a leader upon it appeared, and
I cannot refrain from quoting portions of it.

" It is not only," said The Daily Telegraph, " by
Courts of Law that these delicate questions of journalistic
duty are settled. There is a tribunal of appeal to
which, without complaint against the legal tribunal,
we proudly carry our case. The public is the real
judge of all such cases, and no judgments but those
of the public can condemn its own faithful representa-
tives." Later on, the article proceeded ; " His lordship
softened the condemnatory tone of his charge with
eulogies, which we might quote with pride, if it were
needful to go to that high standard of estimation to
vindicate the labours and the spirit of this journal.
We accept the weight laid upon us in words like these :
' The higher the character of the paper, the larger its
circulation, and the more extensive its influence, the
more serious are the consequences to the individual
whom it wrongs.' The jury of public opinion do not
hold that The Daily Telegraph would, if the error
could be avoided, brand an innocent man with murder.
The jury of public opinion do not believe that, to spice
a paragraph or season a column, The Daily Telegraph
would trifle with a man's hope of life. The court of
public morality has not condemned us in this matter,

A COUKT OF CRIMINAL APPEAL. 335

and while we deserve and have the unbounded con-
fidence of the public, a fine like this for a duty done
towards the English people can be sustained without a
murmur, and will not make us afraid to write what we
believe to be the truth."

There are some remarks I desire to make with
reference to the necessity for establishing in this
country a Court of Criminal Appeal, and, perhaps, had
I only thought of it in time, those remarks would
most fittingly have followed upon the account I gave
of the circumstances connected with the Hatton Garden
murder. It will be remembered that, in that case, a
remarkable dead-lock was brought about. A man
named Pelizzioni was tried for murder and found
guilty. While he lay in the condemned cell, facts came
to light which gave rise to the belief that another
man, of the name of Gregorio, was the real author of
the crime. Gregorio was thereupon tried and also found
guilty, not actually of murder, but of manslaughter.
It was, indeed, a situation that would have been
ludicrous but for its solemn character. As I explained
at the time, an ingenious way out of the difficulty
was happily discovered. There had been a lesser in-
dictment against Pelizzioni, on which, of course, he
was not tried after being found guilty of the capital
offence, and the authorities now bethought themselves
of the expedient of reviving this indictment. Thus
it came about that, in all, three trials took place.

There would have been no necessity for more than

336 A CASE IN POINT.

one trial had a Court of Criminal Appeal been in
existence. By a Court of Criminal Appeal I mean a
Court having the power to review a verdict or sentence
in the light of any facts that might transpire after the
trial. There is already a Court for the consideration
of Crown Cases Reserved, but it has only to decide
questions of law, and that only when the Judge consents
to hold any particular point over. For years, the reform
for which I am pleading has been demanded of suc-
cessive Governments ; but the matter remains in statu
quo. Session after session the excuse is made that
the Irish Question so occupies the time and attention
of the House of Commons that it has not a spare
moment for home legislation of the description referred
to. One, at last, is forced to ask oneself the question :
Are the liberty of the subject, and a question of life
and death, mere secondary considerations ? It certainly
would appear so. As I am writing a matter is en-
grossing the attention of the public, which is very much a
propos of the subject under consideration. An unhappy
woman is, at this moment, lying under sentence of death
at Liverpool for the crime of poisoning her husband. She
has been tried by one of the ablest and most conscientious
Judges who ever sat upon the Bench, and regarding whom
I may say that, in criminal matters, he is second to none.
His " Dig-est of Criminal Law " is the ablest book of its

O

kind that has appeared. One learns that, after a long
and patient investigation, and after the accused had
been found guilty, a scene took place in the city where

PRISONERS' STATEMENTS. 337

she was tried, which I am glad to say is, so far as I
know, without a precedent. The Judge, upon leaving
the Court, was hooted and hissed by a turbulent mob.
Again, for some reason or other, persons who are in
no way concerned in the matter — the majority of them
being in complete ignorance of legal affairs — are cavil-
ling at the justice of the sentence, and insisting that
the whole trial is eminently unsatisfactory. With some
surprise I see that the Bar of the circuit have originated
a petition to the Home Secretary, and it is, I gather,
now lying at the Assize Court for signature. I cannot
help thinking that this is a very dangerous precedent,
and that, if this sort of thing is to go on, the due
course of justice will be seriously impeded.

In connection with the case in question, there is
another point to which I would briefly refer. Should
an accused person, besides having a speech made on
her behalf by her counsel, be permitted to make a
statement herself? Judges differ widely upon this
question. In the early part of my professional career,
I never knew of this course being taken. Later on,
however, I was aware, on more than one occasion, of
such a statement being made, the practice having, I
believe, originated with Mr. Justice Hawkins. Person-
ally, having regard to my clients' interests, I would
never permit such a thing. I do not desire to discuss
the matter here ; but I may say most emphatically
that, in my opinion, it is a fatal mistake to allow a
prisoner to address the jury when he has counsel

VOL. I. /

338 QUESTIONS TO BE SETTLED.

to do so for him. When I have seen this course
adopted, it has generally been by the sanction of
counsel who, however excellent they may be as nisi
prim advocates, are mere amateurs, so to speak, in
great criminal cases. As a rule, they have been afraid
of what, in their eyes, was a losing case, and they have
felt that they avoided a grave amount of responsibility
by allowing the accused to make his or her own
statement. The questions as to whether a prisoner
should be allowed to give evidence himself and to be
examined upon oath, and as to whether a wife should
give evidence on behalf of her husband and be sworn
in the same way as any other witness — these are
questions that can only be settled by the Legislature.

END OF VOL. I.

CHABLES DICKENS AlfD EVANS, CBYSTAL PALACE PEESS.

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