THE GALWAY COURT HOUSE.
There was a feeling very general in the county that the murder had
been committed by the man named Lax, who was known to have been in
the neighbourhood lately, and was declared by his friends at Headford
to be now in Galway, waiting for the trial of Pat Carroll. But there
seemed to be a feeling about the country that Florian Jones had
deserved his fate. He had, it was said, been untrue to his religion.
He had given a solemn promise to Father Brosnan,--of what nature was
not generally known,--and had broken it. "The bittherness of the
Orange feud was in his blood," said Father Brosnan. But neither did
he explain the meaning of what he said, as none of the Jones family
had ever been Orangemen. But the idea was common about Tuam and
Headford that Pat Carroll was a martyr, and that Florian had been
persuaded to turn Protestant in order that he might give false
evidence against him. The reader, however, must understand that
Florian still professed the Catholic religion at the moment of his
death, and that all Headford was aware that Pat Carroll had broken
the sluice gate at Ballintubber.
After an interval of two days the trial was about to go on at Galway
in spite of the murder. It was quite true that by nothing could the
breath of life be restored to Florian Jones. His evidence, such as it
was, could now be taken only from his deposition. And such evidence
was regarded as being very unfair both on one side and on the other.
As given against Pat Carroll it was regarded as unfair, as being
incapable of subjection to cross-examination. The boy's evidence had
been extracted from him by his parents and by Captain Yorke Clayton,
in opposition to the statements which had been made scores of times
by himself on the other side, and which, if true, would all tend to
exonerate the prisoner. It had been the intention of Mr. O'Donnell,
the senior counsel employed to defend Carroll, to insist, with the
greatest severity, on the lies told by the poor boy. It was this
treatment which Florian had especially feared. There could be no such
treatment now; but Mr. O'Donnell would know well how to insist on
the injustice of the deposition, in which no allusion would be made
to the falsehood previously told. But on the other side it was said
that the witness had been removed so that his evidence should not be
given. They must now depend solely on the statement of Terry Carroll,
Pat's brother, and who also had lied terribly before he told the
truth. And he, too, was condemned more bitterly, even by Mr. Jones
and his friends, in that he was giving evidence against his brother,
than had he continued to lie on his behalf. The circumstances being
such as they were, it was felt to be almost impossible to secure
the conviction of Pat Carroll for the offence he had committed. And
yet there were certainly a dozen persons who had seen that offence
committed in the light of day, and many other dozens who knew by whom
the offence had been committed.
And, indeed, the feeling had become common through the country that
all the lawyers and judges in Ireland,--the lawyers and judges that
is who were opposed to the Landleague,--could not secure a conviction
of any kind against prisoners whom the Landleague was bound to
support. It had come to be whispered about, that there were men in
the County of Galway,--and men also in other counties,--too strong
for the Government, men who could beat the Government on any point,
men whom no jury could be brought to convict by any evidence; men who
boasted of the possession of certain secret powers,--which generally
meant murder. It came to be believed that these men were possessed
of certain mysterious capabilities which the police could not handle,
nor the magistrates touch. And the danger to be feared from these
men arose chiefly from the belief in them which had become common.
It was not that they could do anything special if left to their own
devices, but that the crowds by whom they were surrounded trembled at
their existence. The man living next to you, ignorant, and a Roman
Catholic, inspired with some mysterious awe, would wish in his heart
that the country was rid of such fire-brands. He knew well that the
country, and he as part of the country, had more to get from law and
order than from murder and misrule. But murder and misrule had so
raised their heads for the present as to make themselves appear to
him more powerful than law and order. Mr. Lax, and others like him,
were keenly alive to the necessity of maintaining this belief in
their mysterious power.
The trial came on, having been delayed two days by the murder of poor
Florian Jones. His body had, in the meantime, been taken home, and
the only visitor received at Morony Castle had been Yorke Clayton. On
his coming he had been at first closeted with Mr. Jones, and had then
gone out and seen the two girls together. He had taken Ada's hand
first and then Edith's, but he had held Edith's the longer. The girls
had known that it was so, but neither of them had said a word to
rebuke him. "Who was it?" asked Ada.
Clayton shook his head and ground his teeth. "Do you know, or have
you an idea? You know so much about the country," said Edith.
"To you two, but to you only, I do know. He and I cannot exist
together. The man's name is Lax."
It may be imagined that the trial was not commenced at Galway without
the expression of much sympathy for Mr. Jones and the family at
Morony Castle. It is hard to explain the different feelings which
existed, feelings exactly opposed to each other, but which still were
both in their way general and true. He was "poor Mr. Jones," who had
lost his son, and, worse still, his eighty acres of grass, and he
was also "that fellow Jones," that enemy to the Landleague, whom it
behoved all patriotic Irishmen to get the better of and to conquer.
Florian had been murdered on the 30th of August, which was a Tuesday,
and the trial had been postponed until Friday, the 2nd of September.
It was understood that the boy was to be buried at Headford, on
Saturday, the 3rd; but, nevertheless, the father was in the assize
town on the Friday. He was in the town, and at eleven o'clock he took
his place in the Crown Court. He was a man who was still continually
summoned as a grand juror, and as such had no difficulty in securing
for himself a place. To the right of the judge sat the twelve jurors
who had been summoned to try the case, and to the left was the grand
jurors' box, in which Mr. Jones took his seat early in the day. And
Frank was also in the court, and had been stopped by no one when he
accompanied his father into the grand jurors' box.
But the court was crowded in a wonderful manner, so that they who
understood the ways of criminal courts in Ireland knew that something
special was boded. As soon as Mr. Justice Parry took his seat, it was
seen that the court was much more than ordinarily filled, and was
filled by men who did not make themselves amenable to the police.
Many were the instructions given by the judge who had been selected
with a special view to this trial. Judge Parry was a Roman Catholic,
who had sat in the House of Commons as a strong Liberal, had been
Attorney-General to a Liberal Government, and had been suspected of
holding Home-Rule sentiments. But men, when they become judges, are
apt to change their ideas. And Judge Parry was now known to be a firm
man, whom nothing would turn from the execution of his duty. There
had been many Judge Parrys in Ireland, who have all gone the same
gait, and have followed the same course when they have accepted the
ermine. A man is at liberty to indulge what vagaries he pleases, as
long as he is simply a Member of Parliament. But a judge is not at
liberty. He now gave special instructions to the officers of the
court to keep quiet and to preserve order. But the court was full,
densely crowded; and the noise which arose from the crowd was only
the noise as of people whispering loudly among themselves.
The jury was quickly sworn and the trial was set on foot. Pat Carroll
was made to stand up in the dock, and Mr. Jones looked at the face of
the man who had been the first on his property to show his hostility
to the idea of paying rent. He and Lax had been great friends, and it
was known that Lax had sworn that in a short time not a shilling of
rent should be paid in the County Mayo. From that assurance all these
troubles had come.
Then the Attorney-General opened the case, and to tell the truth, he
made a speech which though very eloquent, was longer than necessary.
He spoke of the dreadful state of the country, a matter which he
might have left to the judge, and almost burst into tears when he
alluded to the condition of Mr. Jones, the gentleman who sat opposite
to him. And he spoke at full length of the evidence of the poor boy
whose deposition he held in his hand, which he told the jury he would
read to them later on in the day. No doubt the lad had deceived his
father since the offence had been committed. He had long declared
that he knew nothing of the perpetrators. The boy had seemed to
entertain in his mind certain ideas friendly to the Landleague, and
had made promises on behalf of Landleaguers to which he had long
adhered. But his father had at last succeeded, and the truth had
been forthcoming. His lordship would instruct them how far the boy's
deposition could be accepted as evidence, and how far it must fail.
And so at last the Attorney-General brought his eloquent speech to an
end.
And now there arose a murmuring sound in the court, and a stirring of
feet and a moving of shoulders, louder than that which had been heard
before. The judge, there on his bench, looking out from under his
bushy eyebrows, could see that the people before him were all of one
class. And he could see also that the half-dozen policemen who were
kept close among the crowd, were so pressed as to be hardly masters
of their own actions. He called out a word even from the bench in
which there was something as to clearing the court; but no attempt
to clear the court was made or was apparently possible. The first
witness was summoned, and an attempt was made to bring him up through
the dock into the witness-box. This witness was Terry Carroll, the
brother of Pat, and was known to be there that he might swear away
his brother's liberty. His head no sooner appeared, as about to leave
the dock, than the whole court was filled with a yell of hatred.
There were two policemen standing between the two brothers, but Pat
only turned round and looked at the traitor with scorn. But the
voices through the court sounded louder and more venomous as Terry
Carroll stepped out of the dock among the policemen who were to make
an avenue for him up to the witness-box.
It was the last step he ever made. At that moment the flash of a
pistol was seen in the court; of a pistol close at the man's ear, and
Terry Carroll was a dead man. The pistol had touched his head as it
had been fired, so that there had been no chance of escape. In this
way was the other witness removed, who had been brought thither by
the Crown to give evidence as to the demolition of Mr. Jones's flood
gates. And it was said afterwards,--for weeks afterwards,--that such
should be the fate of all witnesses who appeared in the west of
Ireland to obey the behests of the Crown.
Then was seen the reason why the special crowd had been gathered
there, and of what nature were the men who had swarmed into court.
Clayton, who had been sitting at the end of the row of barristers,
jumped up over the back of the bench and rushed in among the people,
who now tried simply to hold their own places, and appeared neither
to be anxious to go in or out. "Tear an' ages, Musther Clayton, what
are you after jumping on to a fellow that way." This was said by a
brawny Miletian, on to whose shoulders our friend had leaped, meaning
to get down among the crowd. But the Miletian had struck him hard,
and would have knocked him down had there been room enough for him on
which to fall. But Clayton had minded the blow not at all, and had
minded the judge as little, making his way in through the crowd over
the dead body of Terry Carroll. He had been aware that Lax was in the
court, and had seated himself opposite to the place where the man
had stood. But Lax had moved himself during the Attorney-General's
speech, either with the view of avoiding the Captain's eyes,--or, if
he were to be the murderer, of finding the best place from which the
deed could be done. If this had been his object, certainly the place
had been well selected. It was afterwards stated, that though fifty
people at the judge's end of the court had seen the pistol, no eyes
had seen the face of him who held it. Many faces had been seen, but
nobody could connect a single face with the pistol. And it was proved
also that the ball had entered the head just under the ear, with a
slant upwards towards the brain, as though the weapon had been used
by someone crouching towards the ground.
Clayton made his way out of court, followed by the faithful Hunter,
and was soon surrounded by half a score of policemen. Hunter was left
to watch the door of the court, because he was well acquainted with
Lax, and because should Lax come across Hunter, "God help Mr. Lax!"
as Clayton expressed himself. And others were sent by twos and threes
through the city to catch this man if it were possible, or to obtain
tidings respecting him. "A man cannot bury himself under the ground,"
said Clayton; "we have always this pull upon them, that they cannot
make themselves invisible." But in this case it almost did appear
that Mr. Lax had the power.
Though Pat Carroll was not at once set at liberty, his trial was
brought to an end. It was felt to be impossible to send the case to
the jury when the only two witnesses belonging to the Crown had been
murdered. The prisoner was remanded, or sent back to gaol, so that
the Crown might look for more evidence if more might chance to be
found, and everybody else connected in the matter was sent home. A
dark gloom settled itself on Galway, and men were heard to whisper
among themselves that the Queen's laws were no longer in force. And
there was a rowdy readiness to oppose all force, the force of the
police for instance, and the force of the military. There were men
there who seemed to think that now had come the good time when they
might knock anyone on the head at their leisure. It did not come
quite to this, as the police were still combined, and their enemies
were not so. But such men as Captain Clayton began to look as though
they doubted what would become of it. "If he thinks he is big enough
to catch a hold of Terry Lax and keep him, he'll precious soon find
his mistake." This was said by Con Heffernan of Captain Clayton.