MEESON _v._ ADDISON AND ANOTHER.
The most wearisome times go by at last if only one lives to see the end
of them, and so it came to pass that at length on one fine morning
about a quarter to ten of the Law Courts’ clock, that projects its
ghastly hideousness upon unoffending Fleet-street, Augusta, accompanied
by Eustace, Lady Holmhurst, and Mrs. Thomas, the wife of Captain
Thomas, who had come up from visiting her relatives in the Eastern
counties in order to give evidence, found herself standing in the big
entrance to the new Law Courts, feeling as though she would give five
years of her life to be anywhere else.
“This way, my dear,” said Eustace; “Mr. John Short said that he would
meet us by the statue in the hall.” Accordingly they passed into the
archway by the oak stand where the cause-lists are displayed. Augusta
glanced at them as she went, and the first thing that her eyes fell on
was “Probate and Divorce Division Court I., at 10.30, Meeson _v._
Addison and Another,” and the sight made her feel ill. In another
moment they had passed a policeman of gigantic size, “monstrum
horrendum, informe, ingens,” who watches and wards the folding-doors
through which so much human learning, wretchedness, and worry pass day
by day, and were standing in the long, but narrow and ill-proportioned
hall which appears to have been the best thing that the architectural
talent of the nineteenth century was capable of producing.
To the right of the door on entering is a statue of the architect of a
pile of which England has certainly no cause to feel proud, and here, a
black bag full of papers in his hand, stood Mr. John Short, wearing
that air of excitement upon his countenance which is so commonly to be
seen in the law courts.
“Here you are,” he said, “I was beginning to be afraid that you would
be late. We are first on the list, you know; the judge fixed it
specially to suit the convenience of the Attorney-General. He’s on the
other side, you know,” he added, with a sigh. “I’m sure I don’t know
how poor James will get on. There are more than twenty counsel against
him, for all the legatees under the former will are represented. At any
rate, he is well up in his facts, and there does not seem to me to be
very much law in the case.”
Meanwhile, they had been proceeding up the long hall till they came to
a poky little staircase which had just been dug out in the wall, the
necessity for a staircase at that end of the hall, whereby the court
floor could be reached having, to all appearance, originally escaped
the attention of the architect. On getting to the top of the staircase
they turned to the left and then to the left again. If they had had any
doubt as to which road they should take it would have been speedily
decided by the long string of wigs which were streaming away in the
direction of Divorce Court No. 1. Thicker and thicker grew the wigs; it
was obvious that the _cause célèbre_ of Meeson _v._ Addison and Another
would not want for hearers. Indeed, Augusta and her friends soon
realised the intensity of the public interest in a way that was as
impressive as it was disagreeable, for just past the Admiralty Court
the passage was entirely blocked by an enormous mass of barristers;
there might have been five hundred or more of them. There they were,
choked up together in their white-wigged ranks, waiting for the door of
the court to be opened. At present it was guarded by six or eight
attendants, who, with the help of a wooden barrier, attempted to keep
the surging multitude at bay—while those behind cried, “Forward!” and
those in front cried “Back!”
“How on earth are we going to get through?” asked Augusta, and at that
moment Mr. John Short caught hold of an attendant who was struggling
about in the skirts of the crowd like a fly in a cup of tea, and asked
him the same question, explaining that their presence was necessary to
the show.
“I’m bothered if I know, Sir; you can’t come this way. I suppose I must
let you through by the underground passage from the other court. Why,”
he went on, as he led the way to the Admiralty Court, “hang me, if I
don’t believe that we shall all be crushed to death by them there
barristers: It would take a regiment of cavalry to keep them back. And
they are a ‘ungry lot, they are; and they ain’t no work to do, and
that’s why they comes kicking and tearing and worriting just to see a
bit of painting on a young lady’s shoulders.”
By this time they had passed through the Admiralty Court, which was not
sitting, and been conducted down a sort of well, that terminated in the
space occupied by the Judge’s clerks and other officers of the Court.
In another minute they found themselves emerging in a similar space in
the other court.
Before taking the seat that was pointed out to her and the other
witnesses in the well of the court, immediately below those reserved
for Queen’s counsel, Augusta glanced round. The body of the court was
as yet quite empty, for the seething mob outside had not yet burst in,
though their repeated shouts of “Open the door!” could be plainly
heard. But the jury box was full, not with a jury, for the case was to
be tried before the Court itself, but of various distinguished
individuals, including several ladies, who had obtained orders. The
little gallery above was also crowded with smart-looking people. As for
the seats devoted to counsel in the cause, they were crammed to
overflowing with the representatives of the various defendants—so
crammed, indeed, that the wretched James Short, sole counsel for the
plaintiff, had to establish himself and his papers in the centre of the
third bench sometimes used by solicitors.
“Heavens!” said Eustace to Augusta, counting the heads; “there are
twenty-three counsel against us. What will that unfortunate James do
against so many?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure,” said Augusta, with a sigh. “It doesn’t seem
quite fair, does it? But then, you see, there was no money.”
Just then John Short came up. He had been to speak to his brother.
Augusta being a novelist, and therefore a professional student of human
physiognomy, was engaged in studying the legal types before her, which
she found resolved themselves into two classes—the sharp, keen-faced
class and the solid, heavy-jawed class.
“Who on earth are they all?” she asked.
“Oh,” he said, “that’s the Attorney-General. He appears with
Fiddlestick, Q.C., Pearl, and Bean for the defendant Addison. Next to
him is the Solicitor-General, who, with Playford, Q.C., Middlestone,
Blowhard, and Ross, is for the other defendant, Roscoe. Next to him is
Turphy, Q.C., with the spectacles on; he is supposed to have a great
effect on a jury. I don’t know the name of his junior, but he looks as
though he were going to eat one—doesn’t he? He is for one of the
legatees. That man behind is Stickon; he is for one of the legatees
also. I suppose that he finds probate and divorce an interesting
subject, because he is always writing books about them. Next to him is
Howles, who, my brother says, is the best comic actor in the court. The
short gentleman in the middle is Telly; he reports for the _Times_. You
see, as this is an important case, he has got somebody to help him to
take it—that long man with a big wig. He, by-the-way, writes novels,
like you do, only not half such good ones. The next”—but at this moment
Mr. John Short was interrupted by the approach of a rather good-looking
man, who wore an eye-glass continually fixed in his right eye. He was
Mr. News, of the great firm News and News, who were conducting the case
on behalf of the defendants.
“Mr. Short, I believe?” said Mr. News, contemplating his opponent’s
youthful form with pity, not unmixed with compassion.
“Yes.”
“Um, Mr. Short, I have been consulting with my clients and—um, the
Attorney and Solicitor-General and Mr. Fiddlestick, and we are quite
willing to admit that there are circumstances of doubt in this case
which would justify us in making an offer of settlement.”
“Before I can enter into that, Mr. News,” said John, with great
dignity, “I must request the presence of my counsel.”
“Oh, certainly,” said Mr. News, and accordingly James was summoned from
his elevated perch, where he was once more going through his notes and
the heads of his opening speech, although he already knew his
brief—which, to do it justice, had been prepared with extraordinary
care and elaboration—almost by heart, and next moment, for the first
time in his life, found himself in consultation with an Attorney and a
Solicitor-General.
“Look here, Short,” said the first of these great men addressing James
as though he had known him intimately for years, though, as a matter of
fact, he had only that moment ascertained his name from Mr.
Fiddlestick, who was himself obliged to refer to Bean before he could
be sure of it—“look here, Short: don’t you think that we can settle
this business? You’ve got a strongish case; but there are some ugly
things against you, as no doubt you know.”
“I don’t quite admit that,” said James.
“Of course—of course,” said Mr. Attorney; “but still, in my judgment,
if you will not be offended at my expressing it, you are not quite on
firm ground. Supposing, for instance, your young lady is not allowed to
give evidence?”
“I think,” said a stout gentleman behind who wore upon his countenance
the very sweetest and most infantile smile that Eustace had ever seen,
breaking in rather hastily, as though he was afraid that his learned
leader was showing too much of his hand, “I think that the case is one
that, looked at from either point of view, will bear settlement better
than fighting—eh, Fiddlestick? But then, I’m a man of peace,” and again
he smiled most seductively at James.
“What are your terms?” asked James.
The eminent counsel on the front bench turned round and stuck their
wigs together like a lot of white-headed crows over a bone, and the
slightly less eminent but still highly distinguished juniors on the
second bench craned forward to listen.
“They are going to settle it,” Eustace heard the barrister who was
reporting for the _Times_ say to his long assistant.
“They always do settle every case of public interest,” grunted the long
man in answer; “we shan’t see Miss Smithers’ shoulders now. Well, I
shall get an introduction to her, and ask her to show them to me. I
take a great interest in tattooing.”
Meanwhile, Fiddlestick, Q.C., had been writing something on a strip of
paper and handed to his leader, the Attorney-General (who, Mr. James
Short saw with respectful admiration, had 500 guineas marked upon his
brief). He nodded carelessly, and passed it on to his junior, who gave
it in turn to the Solicitor-General and Playford, Q.C. When it had gone
the rounds, Mr. News took it and showed it to his two privileged
clients, Messrs. Addison and Roscoe. Addison was a choleric-looking,
fat-faced man. Roscoe was sallow, and had a thin, straggly black beard.
When they looked at it, Addison groaned fiercely as a wounded bull, and
Roscoe sighed, and that sigh and groan told Augusta—who, womanlike, had
all her wits about her, and was watching every act of the drama—more
than it was meant to do. It told her that these gentlemen were doing
something that they did not like, and doing it because they evidently
believed that they had no other course open to them. Then Mr. News gave
the paper to Mr. John Short, who glanced at it and handed it on to his
brother, and Eustace read it over his shoulder. It was very short, and
ran thus:—“Terms offered: Half the property, and defendants pay all
costs.”
“Well, Short,” said Eustace, “what do you say, shall we take it?”
James removed his wig, and thoughtfully rubbed his bald head. “It is a
very difficult position to be put in,” he said. “Of course a million is
a large sum of money; but there are two at stake. My own view is that
we had better fight the case out; though, of course, this is a
certainty, and the result of the case is not.”
“I am inclined to settle,” said Eustace; “not because of the case, for
I believe in it, but because of Augusta—of Miss Smithers: you see she
will have to show the tattooing again, and that sort of thing is very
unpleasant for a lady.”
“Oh, as to that,” said James loftily, “at present she must remember
that she is not a lady, but a legal document. However, let us ask her.”
“Now, Augusta, what shall we do?” said Eustace, when he had explained
the offer; “you see, if we take the offer you will be spared a very
disagreeable time. You must make up your mind quick, for the Judge will
be here in a minute.”
“Oh, never mind me,” said Augusta, quickly; “I am used to
disagreeables. No, I shall fight, I tell you they are afraid of you. I
can see it in the face of that horrid Mr. Addison. Just now he
positively glared at me and ground his teeth, and he would not do that
if he thought that he was going to win. No, dear; I shall fight it out
now.”
“Very well,” said Eustace, and he took a pencil and wrote, “Declined
with thanks,” at the foot of the offer.
Just at that moment there came a dull roar from the passage beyond. The
doors of the court were being opened. Another second, and in rushed and
struggled a hideous sea of barristers. Heavens, how they fought and
kicked! A maddened herd of buffaloes could not have behaved more
desperately. On rushed the white wave of wigs, bearing the strong men
who held the door before them like wreckage on a breaker. On they came
and in forty seconds the court was crowded to its utmost capacity, and
still there were hundreds of white wigged men behind. It was a fearful
scene.
“Good gracious!” thought Augusta to herself, “how on earth do they all
get a living?” a question that many of them would have found it hard
enough to answer.
Then suddenly an old gentleman near her, whom she discovered to be the
usher, jumped up and called “Silence!” in commanding accents, without
producing much effect, however, on the palpitating mass of humanity in
front. Then in came the officers of the Court; and a moment afterwards,
everybody rose as the Judge entered, and, looking, as Augusta thought,
very cross when he saw the crowded condition of the court, bowed to the
bar and took his seat.