SCENE.--_A Court of Justice_.
USHER, CLERK OF THE COURT, MR. HUNGARY, Q.C., _and others_. MR. LA-DI-
DA, _the prisoner, not in the dock, but seated in a chair before it_.
[_Enter_ MR. JUSTICE NUPKINS.
_Usher_. Silence!--silence!
_Mr. Justice Nupkins_. Prisoner at the bar, you have been found guilty
by a jury, after a very long and careful consideration of your remarkable
and strange case, of a very serious offence; an offence which squeamish
moralists are apt to call robbing the widow and orphan; a cant phrase
also, with which I hesitate to soil my lips, designates this offence as
swindling. You will permit me to remark that the very fact that such
nauseous and improper words can be used about the conduct of a
_gentleman_ shows how far you have been led astray from the path traced
out for the feet of a respectable member of society. Mr. La-di-da, if
you were less self-restrained, less respectful, less refined, less of a
gentleman, in short, I might point out to you with more or less severity
the disastrous consequences of your conduct; but I cannot doubt, from the
manner in which you have borne yourself during the whole of this trial,
that you are fully impressed with the seriousness of the occasion. I
shall say no more then, but perform the painful duty which devolves on me
of passing sentence on you. I am compelled in doing so to award you a
term of imprisonment; but I shall take care that you shall not be
degraded by contamination with thieves and rioters, and other coarse
persons, or share the diet and treatment which is no punishment to
persons used to hard living: that would be to inflict a punishment on you
not intended by the law, and would cast a stain on your character not
easily wiped away. I wish you to return to that society of which you
have up to this untoward event formed an ornament without any such stain.
You will, therefore, be imprisoned as a first-class misdemeanant for the
space of one calendar month; and I trust that during the retirement thus
enforced upon you, which to a person of your resources should not be very
irksome, you will reflect on the rashness, the incaution, the
impropriety, in one word, of your conduct, and that you will never be
discovered again appropriating to your personal use money which has been
entrusted to your care by your friends and relatives.
_Mr. La-di-da_. I thank you, my lord, for your kindness and
consideration. May I be allowed to ask you to add to your kindness by
permitting me to return to my home and make some necessary arrangements
before submitting myself to the well-merited chastisement which my
imprudence has brought upon me?
_Mr. J. N_. Certainly. I repeat I do not wish to make your sentence any
heavier by forcing a hard construction upon it. I give you a week to
make all arrangements necessary for your peace of mind and your bodily
comfort.
_Mr. L_. I thank your lordship. [_Exit_.
[_The case of_ MARY PINCH _called_.]
_Mr. Hungary, Q.C_. I am for the prosecution, my lord, instructed by the
Secretary of State for the Home Department. (JUDGE _bites his pen and
nods_.) My lord, and gentlemen of the Jury, although this case may seem
to some ill-judging persons a trivial one, I think you will be able to
see before it is over that it is really important in its bearing on the
welfare of society, the welfare of the public; that is, of the
respectable public,--of the respectable public, gentlemen. For in these
days, when the spirit of discontent is so widespread, all illegal actions
have, so to say, a political bearing, my lord, and all illegal actions
are wicked, gentlemen of the Jury, since they tend towards the insecurity
of society, or in other words, are definitely aimed at the very basis of
all morality and religion. Therefore, my lord, I have received
instructions from the Home Secretary to prosecute this woman, who, as I
shall be able to prove to you, gentlemen of the Jury, by the testimony of
three witnesses occupying responsible official positions, has been guilty
of a breach at once of the laws of the country and the dictates of
morality, and has thereby seriously inconvenienced a very respectable
tradesman, nay (_looking at his brief_) three respectable tradesmen. I
shall be able to show, gentlemen, that this woman has stolen three loaves
of bread: (_impressively_) not one, gentlemen, but three.
_A Voice_. She's got three children, you palavering blackguard!
[_Confusion_.
_Mr. Justice N_. (_who has made an elaborate show of composing himself to
slumber since the counsel began, here wakes up and cries out_) Arrest
that man, officer; I will commit him, and give him the heaviest
punishment that the law allows of.
[_The_ USHER _dives among the audience amidst great confusion, but comes
back empty-handed_.
_J. N_. A most dangerous disturbance! A most dangerous disturbance!
_Mr. H_. Gentlemen of the Jury, in confirmation of my remarks on the
spirit that is abroad, I call your attention to the riot which has just
taken place, endangering, I doubt not, the life of his lordship, and your
own lives, gentlemen, so valuable to--to--to--in short, to yourselves.
Need I point out to you at any length, then, the danger of allowing
criminals, offenders against the sacred rights of property, to go at
large? This incident speaks for me, and I have now nothing to do but let
the witnesses speak for themselves. Gentlemen of the Jury, I do not ask
you to convict on insufficient evidence; but I _do_ ask you not to be
swayed by any false sentiment bearing reference to the so-called
smallness of the offence, or the poverty of the offender. The law is
made for the poor as well as for the rich, for the rich as well as for
the poor. The poor man has no more right to shelter himself behind his
poverty, than the rich man behind his riches. In short, gentlemen of the
Jury, what I ask you in all confidence to do, is to do justice and fear
not.--I call Sergeant Sticktoit.
[SERGEANT STICKTOIT _sworn_.
_Mr. H_. Well, sergeant, you saw this woman steal the loaves?
_Sticktoit_. Yes, sir.
_Mr. H_. All of them?
_St_. Yes, all.
_Mr. H_. From different shops, or from one?
_St_. From three different shops.
_Mr. H_. Yes, just so. (_Aside_: Then why the devil did he say from one
shop when his evidence was taken before?) (_To_ ST.) You were an eye-
witness of that? You noticed her take all three loaves?
_St_. (_Aside_: He wants me to say from three different shops; I'm sure I
don't know why. Anyhow, I'll say it--and swear it.) (_To the Court_)
Yes, I was an eye-witness of the deed; (_pompously_) I followed her, and
then I took her.
_Mr. H_. Yes, then you took her. Please tell the Court how.
_St_. (_Aside_: Let's see, what did we agree was the likeliest way?) (_To
Court_) I saw her take the first loaf and hide it in her shawl; and then
the second one; and the second one tumbled down into the mud; and she
picked it up again and wiped it with her shawl; and then she took the
third; and when she tried to put that with the two others they all three
tumbled down; and as she stooped down to pick them up it seemed the best
time to take her, as the two constables had come up; so I took her.
_Mr. N_. Yes; you took her.
_St_. And she cried.
_Mr. H_. Ah, she cried. Well, sergeant, that will do; you may go.
(_Aside_: The sooner he goes the better. Wouldn't I like to have the
cross-examining of him if he was called on the other side!) Constable
Potlegoff.
[POTLEGOFF _sworn_.
_Mr. H_. Well, constable, did you see the woman take the loaves?
_Potlegoff_. Yes, sir.
_Mr. H_. How did she take them?
_Pot_. Off the counter, sir.
_Mr. H_. Did she go into the shop to take them?
_Pot_. Yes, sir. (_Aside_: I thought I was to say into three shops.)
_Mr. H_. One after another?
_Pot_. Yes, out of one shop one after another. (_Aside_: Now it's
right, I hope.)
_Mr. H_. (_Aside_: Confound him, he's contradicting the other!) (_To_
POT.) Yes, just so; one after the other. And did you see the second
loaf tumble down?
_Pot_. Yes, sir.
_Mr. H_. When was that?
_Pot_. As she took it off the counter.
_Mr. H_. Yes, _after_ she took it off the counter, in the street?
_Pot_. No, sir. (_Catching the_ SERGEANT'S _eye_.) I mean yes, sir,
and she wiped the mud off them; the sergeant saw her--and I saw her.
_A Voice_. Off IT, you liar! 'twas the second loaf, the single loaf, the
other liar said!
[_Confusion. The judge wakes up and splutters, and tries to say
something; the_ USHER _goes through the audience, but finds no one_;
HUNGARY _spreads out his hands to the Jury, appealingly_.
_Mr. H_. Yes, so it was in the street that you saw the loaves fall down?
_Pot_. Yes, sir; it was in the street that I saw it tumble down.
_A Voice_. You mean _them_, you fool! You haven't got the story right
yet!
[_Confusion again. The_ JUDGE _sits up and stares like a man awaked from
a nightmare, then calls out_ Officer! Officer! _very loud. The_ USHER
_goes his errand again, and comes back bootless_.
_Mr. H_. (_very blandly_). It was in the street that you saw the three
loaves fall down?
_Pot_. Yes, it was in the street that I saw the loaf fall down.
_Mr. H_. Yes, in the street; just so, in the street. You may go
(_Aside_: for a damned fool!). Constable Strongithoath.
[CONSTABLE STRONGITHOATH _sworn_,
_Mr. H_. Constable, did you see this robbery?
_Strong_. I saw it.
_Mr. H_. Tell us what you saw.
_Strong_, (_very slowly and stolidly, and as if repeating a lesson_). I
saw her steal them all--all--all from one shop--from three shops--I
followed her--I took her. When she took it up--she let it drop--in the
shop--and wiped the street mud off it. Then she dropped them all three
in the shop--and came out--and I took her--with the help--of the two
constables--and she cried.
_Mr. H_. You may go (_Aside_: for a new-caught joskin and a fool!). I
won't ask him any questions.
_J. N_. (_waking up, and languid_). Do you call any other witnesses, Mr.
Hungary?
_Mr. H_. No, my lord. (_Aside_: Not if I know it, considering the
quality of the evidence. Not that it much matters; the Judge is going to
get a conviction; the Jury will do as he tells them--always do.) (_To
the Court_): My lord and gentlemen of the Jury, that's my case.
_J. N_. Well, my good woman, what have you to say to this?
_Mary Pinch_. Say to it! What's the use of _saying_ anything to it? I'd
_do_ to it, if I could.
_J. N_. Woman! what do you mean? Violence will not do here. Have you
witnesses to call?
_M. P_. Witnesses! how can I call witnesses to swear that I didn't steal
the loaves?
_J. N_. Well, do you wish to question the witnesses? You have a right
to.
_M. P_. Much good that would be! Would you listen to me if I did? I
didn't steal the loaves; but I wanted them, I can tell you that. But
it's all one; you are going to have it so, and I might as well have
stolen a diamond necklace for all the justice I shall get here. What's
the odds? It's of a piece with the rest of my life for the last three
years. My husband was a handsome young countryman once, God help us! He
could live on ten shillings a-week before he married me; let alone that
he could pick up things here and there. Rabbits and hares some of them,
as why should he not? And I could earn a little too; it was not so bad
there. And then and for long the place was a pretty place, the little
grey cottage among the trees, if the cupboard hadn't been so bare; one
can't live on flowers and nightingale's songs. Then the children came
brisk, and the wages came slack; and the farmer got the new
reaping-machine, and my binding came to an end; and topping turnips for a
few days in the foggy November mornings don't bring you in much, even
when you havn't just had a baby. And the skim milk was long ago gone,
and the leasing, and the sack of tail-wheat, and the cheap cheeses almost
for nothing, and the hedge-clippings, and it was just the bare ten
shillings a-week. So at last, when we had heard enough of eighteen
shillings a-week up in London, and we scarce knew what London meant,
though we knew well enough what ten shillings a-week in the country
meant, we said we'd go to London and try it there; and it had been a good
harvest, quickly saved, which made it bad for us poor folk, as there was
the less for us to do; and winter was creeping in on us. So up to London
we came; for says Robert: "They'll let us starve here, for aught I can
see: they'll do naught for us; let us do something for ourselves." So up
we came; and when all's said, we had better have lain down and died in
the grey cottage clean and empty. I dream of it yet at whiles: clean,
but no longer empty; the crockery on the dresser, the flitch hanging from
the rafters, the pot on the fire, the smell of new bread about; and the
children fat and ruddy tumbling about in the sun; and my lad coming in at
the door stooping his head a little; for our door is low, and he was a
tall handsome chap in those days.--But what's the use of talking? I've
said enough: I didn't steal the loaves--and if I had a done, where was
the harm?
_J. N_. Enough, woman? Yes, and far more than enough. You are an
undefended prisoner. You have not the advantage of counsel, or I would
not have allowed you to go on so long. You would have done yourself more
good by trying to refute the very serious accusation brought against you,
than by rambling into a long statement of your wrongs against society. We
all have our troubles to bear, and you must bear your share of them
without offending against the laws of your country--the equal laws that
are made for rich and poor alike.
_A Voice_. _You_ can bear _her_ troubles well enough, can't you, old fat
guts?
_J. N_. (_scarcely articulate with rage_). Officer! officer! arrest that
man, or I will arrest you!
[USHER _again makes a vain attempt to get hold of some one_.
_J. N_. (_puffing and blowing with offended dignity_). Woman, woman,
have you anything more to say?
_M. P_. Not a word. Do what you will with me. I don't care.
_J. N_. (_impressively_). Gentlemen of Jury, simple as this case seems,
it is a most important one under the present condition of discontent
which afflicts this country, and of which we have had such grievous
manifestations in this Court to-day. This is not a common theft,
gentlemen--if indeed a theft has been committed--it is a revolutionary
theft, based on the claim on the part of those who happen unfortunately
to be starving, to help themselves at the expense of their more
fortunate, and probably--I may say certainly--more meritorious
countrymen. I do not indeed go so far as to say that this woman is in
collusion with those ferocious ruffians who have made these sacred
precincts of justice ring with their ribald and threatening scoff's. But
the persistence of these riotous interruptions, and the ease with which
their perpetrators have evaded arrest, have produced a strange impression
in my mind. (_Very impressively_.) However, gentlemen, that impression
I do not ask you to share; on the contrary, I warn you against it, just
as I warn you against being moved by the false sentiment uttered by this
woman, tinged as it was by the most revolutionary--nay, the most
bloodthirsty feeling. Dismiss all these non-essentials from your minds,
gentlemen, and consider the evidence only; and show this mistaken woman
the true majesty of English Law by acquitting her--if you are not
satisfied with the abundant, clear, and obviously unbiassed evidence, put
before you with that terseness and simplicity of diction which
distinguishes our noble civil force. The case is so free from intricacy,
gentlemen, that I need not call your attention to any of the details of
that evidence. You must either accept it as a whole and bring in a
verdict of guilty, or your verdict must be one which would be tantamount
to accusing the sergeant and constables of wilful and corrupt perjury;
and I may add, wanton perjury; as there could be no possible reason for
these officers departing from the strict line of truth. Gentlemen I
leave you to your deliberations.
_Foreman of Jury_. My lord, we have already made up our minds. Your
lordship need not leave the Court: we find the woman guilty.
_J. N_. (_gravely nodding his head_). It now remains for me to give
sentence. Prisoner at the bar, you have been convicted by a jury of your
countrymen--
_A Voice_. That's a lie! You convicted her: you were judge and jury
both.
_J. N_. (_in a fury_). Officer, you are a disgrace to your coat! Arrest
that man, I say. I would have had the Court cleared long ago, but that I
hoped that you would have arrested the ruffian if I gave him a chance of
repeating his--his crime.
[_The_ USHER _makes his usual promenade_.
_J. N_. You have been convicted by a jury of your countrymen of stealing
three loaves of bread; and I do not see how in the face of the evidence
they could have come to any other verdict. Convicted of such a serious
offence, this is not the time and place to reproach you with other
misconduct; and yet I could almost regret that it is not possible to put
you once more in the dock, and try you for conspiracy and incitement to
riot; as in my own mind I have no doubt that you are in collusion with
the ruffianly revolutionists, who, judging from their accent, are
foreigners of a low type, and who, while this case has been proceeding,
have been stimulating their bloodstained souls to further horrors by the
most indecent verbal violence. And I must here take the opportunity of
remarking that such occurrences could not now be occurring, but for the
ill-judged leniency of even a Tory Government in permitting that pest of
society the unrespectable foreigner to congregate in this metropolis.
_A Voice_. What do they do with you, you blooming old idiot, when you
goes abroad and waddles through the Loover?
_J. N_. Another of them! another of those scarcely articulate
foreigners! This is a most dangerous plot! Officer, arrest everybody
present except the officials. I will make an example of everybody: I
will commit them all.
_Mr. H_. (_leaning over to_ JUDGE). I don't see how it can be done, my
lord. Let it alone: there's a Socialist prisoner coming next; you can
make him pay for all.
_J. N_. Oh! there is, is there? All right--all right. I'll go and get
a bit of lunch (_offering to rise_).
_Clerk_. Beg pardon, my lord, but you haven't sentenced the prisoner.
_J. N_. Oh, ah! Yes. Oh, eighteen months' hard labour.
_M. P_. Six months for each loaf that I didn't steal! Well, God help
the poor in a free country! Won't you save all further trouble by
hanging me, my lord? Or if you won't hang me, at least hang my children:
they'll live to be a nuisance to you else.
_J. N_. Remove the woman. Call the next case. (_Aside_: And look
sharp: I want to get away.)
[_Case of_ JOHN _or_ JACK FREEMAN _called_.]
_Mr. H_. I am for the prosecution, my lord.
_J. N_. Is the prisoner defended?
_Jack Freeman_. Not I.
_J. N_. Hold your tongue, sir! I did not ask you. Now, brother
Hungary.
_Mr. H_. Once more, my lord and gentlemen of the Jury, I rise to address
you; and, gentlemen, I must congratulate you on having the honour of
assisting on two State trials on one day; for again I am instructed by
the Secretary of State for the Home Department to prosecute the prisoner.
He is charged with sedition and incitement to riot and murder, and also
with obstructing the Queen's Highway. I shall bring forward overwhelming
evidence to prove the latter offence--which is, indeed, the easiest of
all offences to be proved, since the wisdom of the law has ordained that
it can be committed without obstructing anything or anybody. As for the
other, and what we may excusably consider the more serious offence, the
evidence will, I feel sure, leave no doubt in your minds concerning the
guilt of the prisoner. I must now give you a few facts in explanation of
this case. You may not know, gentlemen of the Jury, that in the midst of
the profound peace which this glorious empire now enjoys; in spite of the
liberty which is the proud possession of every Briton, whatever his rank
or fortune; in spite of the eager competition and steadily and swiftly
rising wages for the services of the workmen of all grades, so that such
a thing as want of employment is unheard of amongst us; in spite of the
fact that the sick, the infirm, the old, the unfortunate, are well
clothed and generously fed and housed in noble buildings, miscalled, I am
free to confess, _work_houses, since the affectionate assiduity of our
noble Poor Law takes every care that if the inmates are of no use to
themselves they shall at least be of no use to any one else,--in spite of
all these and many kindred blessings of civilisation, there are, as you
may not know, a set of wicked persons in the country, mostly, it is true,
belonging to that class of non-respectable foreigners of whom my lord
spoke with such feeling, taste, and judgment, who are plotting, rather
with insolent effrontery than crawling secrecy, to overturn the sacred
edifice of property, the foundation of our hearths, our homes, and our
altars. Gentlemen of the Jury, it might be thought that such madmen
might well be left to themselves, that no one would listen to their
ravings, and that the glorious machinery of Justice need no more be used
against them than a crusader's glittering battle-axe need be brought
forward to exterminate the nocturnal pest of our couches. This indeed
has been, I must say unfortunately, the view taken by our rulers till
quite recently. But times have changed, gentlemen; for need I tell you,
who in your character of shrewd and successful men of business understand
human nature so well, that in this imperfect world we must not reckon on
the wisdom, the good sense of those around us. Therefore you will
scarcely be surprised to hear that these monstrous, wicked, and
disreputable doctrines are becoming popular; that murder and rapine are
eagerly looked forward to under such names as Socialism, revolution, co-
operation, profit-sharing, and the like; and that the leaders of the sect
are dangerous to the last degree. Such a leader you now see before you.
Now I must tell you that these Socialist or Co-operationist incendiaries
are banded together into three principal societies, and that the prisoner
at the bar belongs to one if not two of these, and is striving, hitherto
in vain, for admittance into the third and most dangerous. The
Federationist League and the International Federation, to one or both of
which this man belongs, are dangerous and malevolent associations; but
they do not apply so strict a test of membership as the third body, the
Fabian Democratic Parliamentary League, which exacts from every applicant
a proof of some special deed of ferocity before admission, the most
guilty of their champions veiling their crimes under the specious
pretexts of vegetarianism, the scientific investigation of supernatural
phenomena, vulgarly called ghost-catching, political economy, and other
occult and dull studies. But though not yet admitted a neophyte of this
body, the prisoner has taken one necessary step towards initiation, in
learning the special language spoken at all the meetings of these
incendiaries: for this body differs from the other two in using a sort of
cant language or thieves' Latin, so as to prevent their deliberations
from becoming known outside their unholy brotherhood. Examples of this
will be given you by the witnesses, which I will ask you to note
carefully as indications of the dangerous and widespread nature of the
conspiracy. I call Constable Potlegoff.
[CONSTABLE POTLEGOFF _sworn_.
_Mr. H_. Have you seen the prisoner before?
_Pot_. Yes.
_Mr. H_. Where?
_Pot_. At Beadon Road, Hammersmith.
_Mr. H_. What was he doing there?
_Pot_. He was standing on a stool surrounded by a dense crowd.
_Mr. H_. What else?
_Pot_. He was speaking to them in a loud tone of voice.
_Mr. H_. You say it was a dense crowd: how dense? Would it have been
easy for any one to pass through the crowd?
_Pot_. It would have been impossible. I could not have got anywhere
near him without using my truncheon--which I have a right to do.
_Mr. H_. Is Beadon Road a frequented thoroughfare?
_Pot_. Very much so, especially on a Sunday morning.
_Mr. H_. Could you hear what he said?
_Pot_. I could and I did. I made notes of what he said.
_Mr. H_. Can you repeat anything he said?
_Pot_. I can. He urged the crowd to disembowel all the inhabitants of
London. (_Sensation_.)
_Mr. H_. Can you remember the exact words he used?
_Pot_. I can. He said, "Those of this capital should have no bowels.
You workers must see to having this done."
_J. N_. Stop a little; it is important that I should get an accurate
note of this (_writing_). Those who live in this metropolis must have
their bowels drawn out--is that right?
_Pot_. This capital, he said, my lord.
_J. N_. (_writing_). This capital. Well, well, well! I cannot guess
why the prisoner should be so infuriated against this metropolis. Go on,
Mr. Hungary.
_Mr. H_. (_to witness_). Can you remember any other words he said?
_Pot_. Yes; later on he said, "I hope to see the last Londoner hung in
the guts of the last member of Parliament."
_J. N_. Londoner, eh?
_Pot_. Yes, my lord; that is, he meant Londoner.
_J. N_. You mustn't say what he meant, you must say what you heard him
say.
_Pot_. Capital, my lord.
_J. N_. I see; (_writing_). The last dweller in the metropolis.
_Pot_. Capital, my lord.
_J. N_. Yes, exactly; that's just what I've written--this metropolis.
_Pot_. He said capital, my lord.
_Mr. H_. Capital, the witness says, my lord.
_J. N_. Well, doesn't that mean the same thing? I tell you I've got it
down accurately.
_J. F_. (_who has been looking from one to the other with an amused_
_smile, now says as if he were thinking aloud_:) Well, I _am_ damned!
what a set of fools!
_J. N_. What is that you said, sir? Have you no sense of decency, sir?
Are you pleading, or are you not pleading? I have a great mind to have
you removed.
_J. F_. (_laughing_). Oh, by all means remove me! I didn't ask to be
here. Only look here, I could set you right in three minutes if you only
let me.
_J. N_. Do you want to ask the witness anything? If not, sir, hold your
tongue, sir. No, sir; don't speak, sir. I can see that you are
meditating bullying me; let me advise you, sir, not to try it.
_Mr. H_. (_to_ POT.) Was that the only occasion on which you heard him
speaking?
_Pot_. No; I have heard him speaking in Hyde Park and saying much the
same thing, and calling Mr. Justice Nupkins a damned old fool!
_J. N_. (_writing_). "A damned old fool!" Anything else?
_Pot_. A blasted old cheat!
_J. N_. (_writing_). "A blasted old cheat!" (_Cheerfully_) Go on.
_Pot_. Another time he was talking in a public-house with two men whom I
understood to be members of the Fabian League. He was having words with
them, and one of them said, "Ah, but you forget the rent of ability"; and
he said, "Damn the rent of ability, I will smash their rents of
abilities."
_Mr. H_. Did you know what that meant?
_Pot_. No; not then.
_Mr. H_. But you do now?
_Pot_. Yes; for I got into conversation with one of them, who told me
that it meant the brain, the skull.
_J. N_. (_writing_). "The rent of ability is a cant phrase in use among
these people signifying the head."
_Mr. H_. Well?
_Pot_. Well, then they laughed and said, Well, as far as he is
concerned, smash it when you can catch it.
_Mr. H_. Did you gather whose head it was that they were speaking of?
_Pot_. Yes; his lordship's.
_Mr. H_. (_impressively and plaintively_). And _why_?
_Pot_. Because they said he had jugged their comrades like a damned old
smoutch!
_J. N_. _Jugged_?
_Pot_. Put them in prison, my lord.
_J. N_. (_Aside_: That Norwich affair.) Wait! I must write my self down
a smoutch--smoutch? no doubt a foreign word.
_Mr. H_. What else have you heard the prisoner say.
_Pot_. I have heard him threaten to make her Majesty the Queen take in
washing.
_J. N_. Plain washing?
_Pot_. Yes, my lord.
_J. N_. Not fancy work?
_Pot_. No, my lord.
_A Juryman_. Have you heard him suggest any means of doing all this?
_Pot_. Yes, sir; for I have attended meetings of his association in
disguise, when they were plotting means of exciting the populace.
_Mr. H_. In which he took part?
_Pot_. In which he took part.
_Mr. H_. You heard him arranging with others for a rising of the lower
orders?
_Pot_. Yes, sir; and on the occasion, when I met him in the public
house, I got into conversation with him, and he told me that his society
numbered upwards of two millions. (J. F. _grins_.)
_The Juryman_ (_anxiously_). Armed?
_Pot_. He said there were arms in readiness for them.
_Mr. H_. Did you find out where?
_Pot_. Yes; at the premises of the Federationist League, 13 Farringdon
Road.
_Mr. H_. Did you search for them there?
_Pot_. Yes.
_Mr. H_. Did you find them?
_Pot_. No; we found nothing but printing-stock and some very shabby
furniture, and the office-boy, and three compositors.
_Mr. H_. Did you arrest them?
_Pot_. No; we thought it better not to do so.
_Mr. H_. Did they oppose your search?
_Pot_. No.
_Mr. H_. What did they do?
_Pot_. Well, they took grinders at me and said, "Sold!"
_Mr. H_. Meaning, doubtless, that they had had an inkling of your search
and had sold the arms?
_Pot_. So we gathered.
_J. N_. (_writing_). "They did not find the arms because they had been
sold."
_Mr. H_. Well, Constable, that will do.
_J. N_. Prisoner, do you wish to ask the Constable any questions?
_J. F_. Well, I don't know. I strongly suspect that you have made up
your mind which way the jury shall make up their minds, so it isn't much
use. However, I will ask him three questions. Constable Potlegoff, at
how many do you estimate the dense crowd at Beadon Road, when I
obstructed?
_Pot_. Upwards of a thousand.
_J. F_. H'm; a good meeting! How many were present at that meeting of
the Socialist League where we were plotting to make the Queen take in
washing?
_Pot_. Upwards of two hundred.
_J. F_. Lastly, when I told you in the public-house that we were two
millions strong, were you drunk or sober?
_Pot_. Sober.
_J. F_. H'm! It's a matter of opinion perhaps as to when a man _is_
drunk. Was I sober?
_Pot_. No; drunk.
_J. F_. H'm! So I should think. That'll do, Mr. Potlegoff; I won't
muddle your "Rent-of-Ability" any more. Good bye.
[SERGEANT STICKTOIT _called_.
_Mr. H_. Have you heard the prisoner speaking?
_St_. Yes.
_Mr. H_. Where?
_St_. At Beadon Road amongst other places: that's where I took him.
_Mr. H_. What was he doing?
_St_. Standing on a stool, speaking
_Mr. H_. Yes; speaking: to how many people?
_St_. About a thousand.
_Mr. H_. Could you get near him?
_St_. Nowhere near.
_Mr. H_. Well, can you tell me what he was saying?
_St_. Well, he said that all the rich people and all the shopkeepers
(_glancing at the Jury_) should be disemboweled and flayed alive, and
that all arrangements had been made for doing it, if only the workingmen
would combine. He then went into details as to where various detachments
were to meet in order to take the Bank of England and capture the Queen.
He also threatened to smash Mr. Justice Nupkins' "Rent-of-Ability," by
which I understood him to mean his skull.
_J. N_. His--my brains, you mean!
_St_. No, my lord; for he said that you--that he--hadn't any brains.
_Mr. H_. Did you find any documents or papers on him when he was
arrested?
_St_. Yes; he had a bundle of papers with him.
_Mr. H_. Like this? (_showing a number of_ "_Commonweal_")
_St_. Yes.
_J. F_. (_Aside_: Two quires that I couldn't sell, damn it!)
_Mr. H_. We put this paper in, my lord. Your lordship will notice the
vileness of the incendiarism contained in it. I specially draw your
attention to this article by one Bax, who as you will see, is familiar
with the use of dynamite to a fearful extent. (J. N. _reads, muttering_
"_Curse of Civilisation_.") Gentlemen of the Jury that is our case.
_J. N_. (_looking up from_ "_Commonweal_"). Prisoner at the bar, what
have you to say? Do you call witnesses?
_J. F_. Yes, I call witnesses, but I haven't much to say. I am accused
of obstruction, but I shan't argue that point, as I know that I should do
myself no good by proving that I had not obstructed. I am accused of
being a Socialist and a revolutionist. Well, if you, my lord, and you,
gentlemen of the Jury, and the classes to which you belong, knew what
Socialism means--and I fear you take some pains not to--you would also
know what the condition of things is now, and how necessary revolution
is. So if it is a crime to be a Socialist and a revolutionist, I have
committed that crime; but the charge against me is that I am a criminal
fool, which I am not. And my witnesses will show you, gentlemen of the
Jury, that the evidence brought against me is a mass of lies of the
silliest concoction. That is, they will show it you if you are sensible
men and understand your position as jurymen, which I almost fear you do
not. Well, it will not be the first time that the judge has usurped the
function of the jury, and I would go to prison cheerfully enough if I
could hope it would be the last.
[_He pauses as if to listen. Confused noises and the sound of the_
"_Marseillaise_" _a long way off_. (_Aside_: What is it, I wonder?--No;
it's nothing.)
_J. N_. Prisoner, what is the matter with you? You seem to be
intoxicated; and indeed I hope you are, for nothing else could excuse the
brutality of your language.
_J. F_. Oh, don't put yourself out, my lord. You've got the whip-hand
of me, you know. I thought I heard an echo; that's all. Well, I will
say no more, but call the Archbishop of Canterbury.
[_Enter the_ ARCHBISHOP, _who is received with much reverence and
attention. He is sworn_.
_J. F_. Your Grace, were you present at the meeting at Beadon Road where
I was arrested?
_Arch_. Yes--yes, I _was_ there. Strange to say, it was on a Sunday
morning. I needed some little refreshment from the toils of
ecclesiastical office. So I took a cab, I admit under the pretext of
paying a visit to my brother of London; and having heard the fame of
these Socialist meetings, I betook me to one of them for my instruction
and profit: for I hold that in these days even those that are highest in
the Church should interest themselves in social matters.
_J. F_. Well, my lord, were you pleased with what you saw and heard?
_Arch_. I confess, sir, that I was disappointed.
_J. F_. Why, my lord?
_Arch_. Because of the extreme paucity of the audience.
_J. F_. Were there a thousand persons present?
_Arch_. (_severely_). I must ask you not to jest with me in the sacredly
respectable precincts of a Court of Justice. To the best of my
remembrance, there were present at the commencement of your discourse but
three persons exclusive of yourself. That fact is impressed on my mind
from the rude and coarse words which you said when you mounted your stool
or rostrum to the friend who accompanied you and had under his arm a
bundle of a very reprehensible and ribald print called the _Commonweal_,
one of which he, I may say, forced me to purchase.
_J. F_. Well, what did I say?
_Arch_. You said, "I say, Bill! damned hard lines to have to speak to a
lamp-post, a kid, and an old buffer"--by the latter vulgarity indicating
myself, as I understand.
_J. F_. Yes, my lord, so it is. Now let me ask you, if that matters, is
Beadon Road a thronged thoroughfare?
_Arch_. On the contrary; at least on the morning on which I was there,
there was a kind of Sabbath rest about it, scarcely broken by the
harangue of yourself, sir.
_J. F_. You heard what I said, my lord?
_Arch_. I did, and was much shocked at it.
_J. F_. Well, did I say anything about bowels?
_Arch_. I regret to say that you did.
_J. F_. Do you remember the words I used?
_Arch_. Only too well. You said, but at great length, and with much
embroidery of language more than questionable, that capital had no bowels
for the worker, nor owners of capital either; and that since no one else
would be kind to them, the workers must be kind to themselves and take
the matter into their own hands.
_J. N_. (_making notes_). Owners of _the capital_; workman must take the
matter--take the matter--into their own hands.
_J. F_. Well, I have no more questions to ask your Grace.
_Mr. H_. With many excuses, your Grace, _I_ will ask you a question.
_Arch_. Certainly, Mr Hungary.
_Mr. H_. You say that the audience was very small; that was at first;
but did it not increase as time went on?
_Arch_. Yes; an itinerant vendor of ices drew up his stall there, and
two policemen--these gentlemen--strolled in, and some ten or more others
stood round us before the orator had finished.
_Mr. H_. (_Aside_: H'm! old beggar will be so very specific. Let's try
him as to the sedition.) (_To_ ARCH.) My lord, you said that you were
shocked at what the prisoner said: what was the nature of his discourse?
_Arch_. I regret to have to say that it was a mass of the most frightful
incendiarism, delivered with an occasional air of jocularity and dry
humour that made my flesh creep. Amidst the persistent attacks on
property he did not spare other sacred things. He even made an attack on
my position, stating (wrongly) the amount of my moderate stipend. Indeed,
I think he recognised me, although I was partially disguised.
_J. F_. (_Aside_: True for you, old Benson, or else how could I have
subpoenaed you?)
_Mr. H_. I thank your Grace: that will do.
_J. F_. I now call Lord Tennyson.
[LORD TENNYSON _sworn_.
_J. F_. My lord, have you been present, in disguise, at a meeting of the
Socialist League in 13 Farringdon Road?
_Lord T_. What's that to you? What do you want to know for? Yes, I
have, if it comes to that.
_J. F_. Who brought you there?
_Lord T_. A policeman: one Potlegoff. I thought he was a Russian by his
name, but it seems he is an Englishman--and a liar. He said it would be
exciting: so I went.
_J. F_. And was it exciting?
_Lord T_. NO: it was _dull_.
_J. F_. How many were present?
_Lord T_. Seventeen: I counted them, because I hadn't got anything else
to do.
_J. F_. Did they plot anything dreadful?
_Lord T_. Not that I could hear. They sat and smoked; and one fool was
in the chair, and another fool read letters; and then they worried till I
was sick of it as to where such and such fools should go to spout folly
the next week; and now and then an old bald-headed fool and a stumpy
little fool in blue made jokes, at which they laughed a good deal; but I
couldn't understand the jokes--and I came away.
_J. F_. Thank you, my lord.
_Mr. H_. My lord Tennyson, I wish to ask you a question. You say that
you couldn't understand their jokes: but could you understand them when
they were in earnest?
_Lord T_. No, I couldn't: I can't say I tried. I don't want to
understand Socialism: it doesn't belong to my time. [_Exit_.
_J. F_. I call Professor Tyndall.
[PROFESSOR TYNDALL _sworn_.
_J. F_. Professor Tyndall, have you seen me before?
_Pro. T_. Yes; I have seen you in a public-house, where I went to
collect the opinions of the lower orders against Mr. Gladstone.
_J. F_. Who was I with?
_Pro. T_. You were with a man whom I was told was a policeman in plain
clothes, and with some others that I assume to have been friends of
yours, as you winked at them and you and they were laughing together as
you talked to the policeman.
_J. F_. Do you see the policeman in Court?
_Pro. T_. Yes; there he is.
_J. F_. Was he drunk or sober?
_Pro. T_. What, now?
_J. F_. No--then.
_Pro. T_. (_with decision_). Drunk.
_J. F_. Was I drunk?
_Pro. T_. What, now?
_J. F_. No--then; though you may tell me whether I'm drunk or not now,
if you like, and define drunkenness scientifically.
_Pro. T_. Well, you were so, so.
_J. F_. Thank you, Professor.
_Mr. H_. One question, Professor Tyndall. Did you hear what the
prisoner was saying to the policeman--who, by the way, was, I suspect,
only shamming drunkenness?
_J. F_. (_Aside_: He could carry a good deal, then.)
_Pro. T_. Yes, I heard him. He was boasting of the extent and power of
the Socialist organisation.
_Mr. H_. And did you believe it? did it surprise you?
_Pro. T_. It did not in the least surprise me: it seemed to me the
natural consequences of Gladstone's Home Rule Bill. As to believing it,
I knew he was jesting; but I thought that his jesting concealed very
serious earnest. He seemed to me a determined, cunning, and most
dangerous person.
_Mr. H_. I thank you, professor. [_Exit_ PRO. T.
_J. N_. Prisoner, do you want to re-examine the witnesses? What's that
noise outside? They ought to be arrested.
["_Marseillaise_" _again without, and tumult nearer_. FREEMAN _listens
intently, without heeding the_ JUDGE.
_J. N_. Prisoner, why don't you answer? Your insolence won't serve you
here, I can tell you.
_J. F_. I was listening, Judge; I thought I heard that echo again.
_J. N_. Echo again! What does the fellow mean? It's my belief you're
drunk, sir: that you have stimulated your courage by liquor.
_A Voice_. Look out for _your_ courage, old cockywax; you may have
something to try it presently!
_J. N_. Officer, arrest that pernicious foreigner.
[USHER _promenades once more_.
_J. N_. (_Aside_: I don't like it: I'm afraid there is something going to
happen.) (_To Court_) Mr. Hungary.
_Mr. H_. My lord and gentlemen of the Jury, the prisoner's mingled
levity and bitterness leaves me little to answer to. I can only say,
gentlemen of the Jury, that I am convinced that you will do your duty. As
to the evidence, I need make no lengthened comments on it, because I am
sure his lordship will save me the trouble. (_Aside_: Trust him!) It is
his habit--his laudable habit--to lead juries through the intricacies
which beset unprofessional minds in dealing with evidence. For the rest,
there is little need to point out the weight of the irrefragible
testimony of the sergeant and constable,--men trained to bring forward
those portions of the facts which come under their notice which _are_
weighty. I will not insult you, my lord, by pointing out to intelligent
gentlemen in your presence how the evidence of the distinguished and
illustrious personages so vexatiously called by the prisoner, so far from
shaking the official evidence, really confirms it. (_Aside_: I wonder
what all that row is about? I wish I were out of this and at home.)
Gentlemen of the Jury, I repeat that I expect you to do your duty and
defend yourselves from the bloodthirsty designs of the dangerous
revolutionist now before you. (_Aside_: Well, now I'm off, and the
sooner the better; there's a row on somewhere.) [_Exit_.
_J. N_. Gentlemen of the Jury, I need not expatiate to you on the
importance of the case before you. There are two charges brought against
the prisoner, but one so transcends the other in importance--nay, I may
say swallows it up--that I imagine your attention will be almost wholly
fixed on that--the charge of conspiring and inciting to riot. Besides,
on the lesser charge the evidence is so simple and crystal-clear that I
need but allude to it. I will only remark on the law of the case, that
committing an obstruction is a peculiar offence, since it is committed by
everyone who, being in a public thoroughfare, does not walk briskly
through the streets from his starting-place to his goal. There is no
need to show that some other person is hindered by him in his loitering,
since obviously that _might_ be the case; and besides, his loitering
might hinder another from forming in his mind a legitimate wish to be
there, and so might do him a very special and peculiar injury. In fact,
gentlemen, it has been doubted whether this grave offence of obstruction
is not always being committed by everybody, as a corollary to the well-
known axiom in physics that two bodies cannot occupy the same space at
one and the same time. So much, gentlemen, for the lesser accusation. As
to the far more serious one, I scarcely know in what words to impress
upon you the gravity of the accusation. The crime is an attack on the
public safety, gentlemen; if it has been committed, gentlemen--if it has
been committed. On that point you are bound by your oaths to decide
according to the evidence; and I must tell you that the learned counsel
was in error when he told you that I should direct your views as to that
evidence. It is for you to say whether you believe that the witnesses
were speaking what was consonant with truth. But I am bound to point out
to you that whereas the evidence for the prosecution was clear, definite,
and consecutive, that for the defence had no such pretensions. Indeed,
gentlemen, I am at a loss to discover why the prisoner put those
illustrious and respectable personages to so much trouble and
inconvenience merely to confirm in a remarkable way the evidence of the
sergeant and the constable. His Grace the Archbishop said that there
were but three persons present when the prisoner _began_ speaking; but he
has told us very clearly that before the end of the discourse there were
ten, or more. You must look at those latter words, _or more_, as a key
to reconcile the apparent discrepancy between his Grace's evidence and
that of constable Potlegoff. This, however, is a matter of little
importance, after what I have told you about the law in the case of
obstruction. His Grace's clear remembrance of the horrible language of
the prisoner, and the shuddering disgust that it produced on him, is a
very different matter. Although his remembrance of the _ipsissima verba_
does not quite tally with that of the constable, it is clear that both
the Archbishop and the policeman have noted the real significance of what
was said: The owners of this capital, said the prisoner--
_J. F_. I said nothing of the kind.
_J. N_. Yes you did, sir. Those were the very words you said: I have
got it down in my notes of his Grace's evidence. What is the use of your
denying it, when your own witness gives evidence of it? Hold your
tongue, sir.--And the workingmen, says the prisoner, must take the matter
into their own hands. Take it into _their own hands_, gentlemen, and
take _the matter_ into their hands. What matter are they to take into
their hands? Are we justified in thinking that the prisoner was speaking
metaphorically? Gentlemen, I must tell you that the maxim that in
weighing evidence you need not go beyond the most direct explanation
guides us here; forbids us to think that the prisoner was speaking
metaphorically, and compels us to suppose that the _matter_ which is to
be in the _hands_ of the workmen, their very _hands_, gentlemen, is--what?
Why, (_in an awe-struck whisper_) the bowels of the owners of the
capital, that is of this metropolis--London! Nor, gentlemen, are the
means whereby those respectable persons, the owners of house property in
London, to be disembowelled left doubtful: the raising of armed men by
the million, concealed weapons, and an organisation capable of
frustrating the search for them. Nay, an article in the paper which
impudently calls itself (_reading the_ "_Commonweal_") the official
journal of the Socialist League, written by one Bax, who ought to be
standing in the same dock with the prisoner--an article in which he
attacks the sacredness of civilisation--is murky with the word dynamic or
dynamite. And you must not forget, gentlemen, that the prisoner accepts
his responsibility for all these words and deeds. With the utmost
effrontery having pleaded "Not Guilty," he says, "I am a Socialist and a
Revolutionist"!--Thus much, gentlemen, my duty compels me to lay before
you as to the legal character of the evidence. But you must clearly
understand that it rests with you and not with me to decide as to whether
the evidence shows this man to be guilty. It is you, gentlemen of the
Jury, who are responsible for the verdict, whatever it may be; and I must
be permitted to add that letting this man loose upon society will be a
very heavy responsibility for you to accept.
[_The Jury consult: the noise outside increases_.
_J. F_. (_Aside_; Hilloa! what _is_ going on? I begin to think there's a
row up!)
_Foreman of the Jury_. My lord, we are agreed upon our verdict.
_J. N_. Do you find the prisoner at the bar "Guilty" or "Not Guilty"?
_F. of J_. Guilty, my lord.
_J. F_. Just _so_.
_J. N_. Prisoner at the bar, you have been fairly tried and found guilty
by a jury of your fellow-countrymen of two most serious offences--crimes,
I should say. If I had not to pronounce sentence upon one whose
conscience is seared and case-hardened to an unexampled degree, I might
have some words to say to you. (_Aside_: And also if I didn't want to
get out of this as quick as I can; for I'm sure there is some row going
on.) As it is, I will add no words to my sentence. (_Aside_: I wish I
were _off_, but let's give it him hot and heavy!) I sentence you to six
years' penal servitude and to pay a fine of 100 pounds.
_J. F_. Well, its pretty much what I expected of _you_. As to the 100
pounds, don't you wish you may get it; and as to the six years--
[_Great noise_; "_Marseillaise_" _sung quite close_; _hammering on the
doors_.
_J. F_. Hark! what's that?
_J. N_. (_in a quavering voice_). Remove the prisoner!
[_Enter a_ SOCIALIST ensign _with a red flag in his hand_.
_S. E_. Remove the prisoner! Yes, that's just what I've come to do, my
lord. The Tables are Turned now!
_J. N_. (_rising and prepared to go_). Arrest that man!
_S. E_. Yes, do--if you can.
_J. F_. What does it all mean, Bill?
_S. E_. The very beginning of it, Jack. It seems we have not been
sanguine enough. The Revolution we were all looking forward to had been
going on all along, and now the last act has begun. The reactionists are
fighting, and pretty badly too, for the soldiers are beginning to
remember that they too belong to the "lower classes"--the lower
classes--hurrah! You must come along at once, Freeman; we shall want you
in our quarter. Don't waste another minute with these fools.
_J. N_. (_screaming_). Help, help! Murder, murder!
_S. E_. Murder!--murder a louse! Who's hurting you, old gentleman?
Don't make such a noise. We'll try and make some use of you when we have
time, but we must bustle now. Come on, Jack. Stop a bit, though;
where's the Clerk of the Court? Oh, there! Clerk, we shall want this
Court-house almost directly to use for a free market for this district.
There have been too many people starving and half-starving this long
time; and the first thing that we've got to see to is that every one has
enough to eat, drink, and wear, and a proper roof over his head.
_J. N_. Murder! thieves! fire!
_S. E_. There, there! Don't make such a row, old fellow! Get out of
this, and bellow in the fields with the horned cattle, if you must
bellow. Perhaps they'll want Courts of Justice now, as we don't. And as
for you, good fellows, all give a cheer for the Social Revolution which
has Turned the Tables; and so--to work--to work!
[JUDGE _screams and faints, and Curtain falls_.