"George William Foote, William James Ramsey, and Henry Arthur Kemp,"
cried the Clerk of the Court at the Old Bailey. It was Thursday morning,
March 1, 1883, and as we stepped into the dock the clock registered five
minutes past ten. We were provided with chairs, and there were pens and
ink on the narrow ledge before us. It was not large enough, however, to
hold all my books, some of which had to be deposited on the floor,
and fished up as I required them. Behind us stood two or three Newgate
warders, who took quite a benevolent interest in our case. Over their
heads was a gallery crammed with sympathisers, and many more were seated
in the body of the court. Mr. Wheeler occupied a seat just below me, in
readiness to convey any messages or hand me anything I might require.
Between us and the judge were several rows of seats, all occupied by
gentlemen in wigs, eager to follow such an unusual case as ours. Sir
Hardinge Giffard lounged back with a well-practised air of superiority
to the legal small-fry around him, and near him sat Mr. Poland and Mr.
Lewis, who were also retained by the prosecution. Justice North was
huddled in a raised chair on the bench, and owing perhaps to the
unfortunate structure of the article, it seemed as though he was being
shot out every time he leaned forward. His countenance was by no
means assuring to the "prisoners." He smiled knowingly to Sir Hardinge
Giffard, and treated us with an insolent stare. Watching him closely
through my eye-glass, I read my fate so far as he could decide it. His
air was that of a man intent on peremptorily settling a troublesome
piece of business; his strongest characteristic seemed infallibility,
and his chief expression omniscience. I saw at once that we should soon
fall foul of each other, as in fact we did in less than ten minutes. My
comportment was unusual in the Old Bailey dock; I did not look timid or
supplicating or depressed; I simply bore myself as though I were doing
my accustomed work. That was my first offence. Then I dared to defend
myself, which was a greater offence still; for his lordship had not only
made up his mind that I was guilty, but resolved to play the part of
prosecuting counsel. We were bound to clash, and, if I am not mistaken,
we exchanged glances of defiance almost as soon as we faced each other.
His look said "I will convict you," and mine answered "We shall see."
Sir Hardinge Giffard's speech in opening the case for the prosecution
was brief, but remarkably astute. He troubled himself very little about
the law of Blasphemy, although the jury had probably never heard of
it before. He simply appealed to their prejudices. He spoke with bated
breath of our ridiculing "the most awful mysteries of the Christian
faith." He described our letterpress as an "outrage on the feelings of
a Christian community," which he would not shock public decency
by reading; and our woodcuts as "the grossest and most disgusting
caricatures." And then, to catch any juryman who might not be a
Christian, though perhaps a Theist, he declared that our blasphemous
libels would "grieve the conscience of any sincere worshipper of the
great God above us." This appeal was made with uplifted forefinger,
pointing to where that being might be supposed to reside, which I
inferred was near the ceiling. Sir Hardinge Giffard finally resumed
his seat with a look of subdued horror on his wintry face. He tried
to appear exhausted by his dreadful task, so profound was the emotion
excited even in his callous mind by our appalling wickedness. It was
well acted, and must, I fancy, have been well rehearsed. Yes, Sir
Hardinge Giffard is decidedly clever. It is not accident that has made
him legal scavenger for all the bigots in England.
Mr. Poland and Mr. Lewis then adduced the evidence against us. I need
not describe their performance. It occupied almost two hours, and it was
nearly one o'clock when I rose to address the jury. That would have been
a convenient time for lunch, but his lordship told me I had better go
on till the usual hour. As I had only been speaking about thirty
minutes when we did adjourn for lunch, I infer that his lordship was
not unwilling to spoil my defence. How different was the action of Lord
Coleridge when he presided at our third trial in the Court of Queen's
Bench! The case for the prosecution closed at one o'clock, exactly as it
did on our first trial at the Old Bailey. But the Lord Chief Justice
of England, with the instinct of a gentleman and the consideration of a
just judge, did not need to be reminded that an adjournment in half an
hour would make an awkward break in our defence. Without any motion on
our part, he said: "If you would rather take your luncheon first, before
addressing the jury, do so by all means." Mr. Ramsey, who preceded me
then, had just risen to read his address. After a double experience of
Judge North, and two months' imprisonment like a common thief under his
sentence, he was fairly staggered by Lord Coleridge's kindly proposal,
and I confess I fully shared his emotion.
Sir Hardinge Giffard had grossly misled the jury on one point. He told
them that even in "our great Indian dominions, where Christianity was by
no means the creed of the majority of the population, it had been found
necessary to protect the freedom of conscience and the right of every
man to hold his own faith, by making criminal offenders of those who,
for outrage and insult, thought it necessary to issue contumelious or
scornful publications concerning any religious sect." In reply to this
absolute falsehood, I pointed out that the Indian law did not affect
publications at all, but simply punished people for openly desecrating
sacred places or railing at any sect in the public thoroughfare, on the
ground that such conduct tended to a breach of the peace; and that under
the very same law members of the Salvation Army had been arrested and
imprisoned because they persisted in walking in procession through the
streets. Under the Indian law, no prosecution of the _Freethinker_ could
have been initiated; and, in support of this statement, I proceeded
to quote from a letter by Professor W. A. Hunter, in the _Daily News_.
Judge North doubtless knew that I could cite no higher authority, and
seeing how badly his friend Sir Hardinge was faring, he prudently came
to his assistance. Interrupting me very uncivilly, he inquired what
Professor Hunter's letter had to do with the subject, and remarked that
the jury had nothing to do with the law of India. "Then, my lord," I
retorted, "I will discontinue my remarks on this point, only expressing
my regret that the learned counsel should have thought it necessary to
occupy the time of the court with it." Whereat there was much laughter,
and his lordship's face was covered with an angry flush.
Later in my address I had a long altercation with his lordship. I
wanted to show the jury that such heresy as I had published in the
_Freethinker_ abounded in high-class publications, but Justice North
endeavoured (vainly enough) to prevent me. The verbatim report of what
occurred is so rich that I give it here instead of a summary version:
"Now, gentlemen, I told you before that one of the reasons,
in my opinion, why the present prosecution was commenced,
was that the alleged blasphemous libels were published in a
cheap paper, and I asked you to bear in mind that there was
plenty of heresy in expensive books, published at 10s., 12s.,
and even as much as L1 and more. I think I have a right to
ask that you should have some proof of this statement. I think
I can show you that similar views are expressed by the leading
writers of to-day--not, perhaps, in precisely the same language--
for it is not to be expected that the paper which is addressed
to the many will be conducted on just the same level, either
intellectually or aesthetically speaking, as a publication,
in the form of an expensive book, which is only intended for
men of education, intelligence and leisure; but such views are
put before the public by the most prominent writers of the day.
You will, of course, expect to find differences in the mode of
expression, and as a matter of course, differences of taste; but
I submit that differences of taste affect the question very little
unless, as I have said, they actually lead to breaches of the
peace. But in a case like this there ought to be no distinction
on grounds of taste. Surely the man who says a thing in one
way is not to be punished, while the man who says the same
thing in another way is to go scot free. You cannot make a
distinction between men on grounds of taste. I can imagine
that if there were a parliament of aesthetic gentlemen, and
Mr. Oscar Wilde were made Prime Minister, some such arrangement
as that would find weight before the jury; but, in the present
state of enlightened opinion, I do not think that any such
arrangement would be accepted by you. Now, gentleman, I shall
call your attention first of all to a book which is published
by no less a firm than the old and well-established house of
Longmans. The author of the book----
Mr. Justice North: What is the name of the book?
Mr. Foote: The book is the 'Autobiography of John Stuart Mill.'
Mr. Justice North: What are you going to refer to it for?
Mr. Foote: I am going to refer to one page of it, my lord.
Mr. Justice North: What for?
Mr. Foote: To show that identical views to those expressed in the
cheap paper before the court are expressed in expensive volumes.
Mr. Justice North: I shall not hear anything of that sort. I am
not trying the question, nor are the jury, whether the views
expressed by other persons are sound or right. The question is
whether you are guilty of a blasphemous libel. I shall direct
them that it will be for them to say whether the facts are proved
in this case.
Mr. Foote: I will call your attention, my lord, to the remarks
of Lord Justice Cockburn in a similar case.
Mr. Justice North: I will hear anything relevant to the subject.
My reason for asking you was to find out whether you were going
to quote a law book.
Mr. Foote: I will quote a verbatim report.
Mr. Justice North: I can hear that.
Mr. Foote: It is the case against Charles Bradlaugh and Annie Besant.
Mr. Justice North: By whom is your report published?
Mr. Foote: It is a verbatim report published by the Freethought
Publishing Company--the shorthand notes of the full proceedings,
with the cross-examination and the judgment of the court.
Mr. Justice North: There is no evidence of that. Did you hear it?
Mr. Foote: I did not personally hear it, but my co-defendants did.
Mr. Justice North: I will hear you state anything you suggest as
being said by Lord Chief Justice Cockburn.
Mr. Foote: Mrs. Besant was about to read a passage from
'Tristram Shandy'----
Mr. Justice North: You have not proved the publication.
Mr. Foote: Quite so, my lord; but although this is not formal
evidence, and only the report of a case, I thought your lordship
would not object to hear it.
[Mr. Foote here handed in a copy of the report to the judge,
and pointed out that the Lord Chief Justice had said he could
not prevent Mrs. Besant from committing a passage to memory,
or from reading books as if reciting from memory].
Mr. Justice North: I will allow you to go on, either quoting
from memory or reading from the book; but I cannot go into
the question of whether this is right or not.
Mr. Foote: I am not proposing that. I am only going to show
that opinions like those expressed here extensively prevail.
Mr. Justice North: That is not the question at all. If they
extensively prevail, so much the worse. What somebody else
has said, whoever that person may be, cannot affect the question
in this case.
Mr. Foote: But, my lord, might it not affect the question of
whether a jury might not themselves, by an adverse verdict, be
far more contributing to a breach of the peace than the publication
on which they are asked to adjudicate?
Mr. Justice North: I think not, and it shall not do so if I
can help it. It is a mere waste of time to attempt to justify
anything that has been said in the alleged libel by showing
that someone else has said the same thing.
Mr. Foote: In all trials the same process has been allowed.
Mr. Justice North: It will not be allowed on this occasion.
Mr. Foote: If your lordship will pardon me for calling attention
to the famous case of the King against William Hone, I would
point out that there Hone read extracts to the jury.
Mr. Justice North: Very possibly it might have been relevant
in that case.
Mr. Foote: But, my lord, it was precisely a similar case--it was
a case of blasphemous libel. Lord Ellenborough sat on the bench.
Mr. Justice North: Possibly.
Mr. Foote: And Lord Ellenborough allowed Mr. Hone to read what
he considered justificatory of his own publication. The same
thing occurred in the case of the Queen against Bradlaugh and Besant.
Mr. Justice North: We have nothing to do to-day with the
question whether any author has taken the views which are
taken in these libels, whoever the author was.
Mr. Foote: Does your lordship mean that I am to go on reading or not?
Mr. Justice North: Go on with your address to the jury, sir;
that's what I wish you to do. But you cannot do what you were
about to do--refer to the book you mentioned for any such purpose
as you indicated.
Mr. Foote: I hope your lordship does not misunderstand me. I am
simply defending myself against a very grave charge under an old law.
Mr. Justice North: Go on, go on, Foote. I know that. Go on with
your address.
Mr. Foote: Your lordship, these questions are part of my address.
Gentlemen (turning to the jury), no less a person than a brother
of one of our most distinguished judges has said----
Mr. Justice North: Now, again, I cannot have you quoting books
not in evidence, for the sake of putting before the jury the
matters they state. The passage you referred to is one in which
the Lord Chief Justice pointed out that that could not be done.
Mr. Foote: But the action, my lord, of the Lord Chief Justice
did not put a stop to the reading. He said he would allow
Mrs. Besant to quote any passage as a part of her address.
Mr. Justice North: Go on.
Mr. Foote: No less a person than the brother of one of our most
learned----
Mr. Justice North: Now did I not tell you that you could not do that?
Mr. Foote: Will your lordship give me a most distinct ruling in
this case?
Mr. Justice North: I am ruling that you cannot do what you are
trying to do now.
Mr. Foote: I am sorry, my lord, I cannot understand.
Mr. Justice North: I am sorry for it. I have tried to make
myself clear.
Mr. Foote: Does your lordship mean that I am not to read from
anything to show justification of the libel?
Mr. Justice North: There is no justification in the case. The
question the jury have to decide is whether you, and the persons
present with you, are guilty of a libel or not. For that purpose
they will have to consider whether the matters in question are
a libel. If so, they will have also to consider whether you
and the other defendants are guilty of having published it.
If they think it a libel, and that you have published it, they
will have answered the only two questions they will have to
put to themselves.
Mr. Foote: My lord, in an ordinary libel case justification can
be shown.
Mr. Justice North: Go on.
Mr. Foote: I do not wish to occupy the time of the court
unnecessarily, but really I think your lordship ought to
remember the grave position in which I stand, and not stand
in the way of anything which I consider to be of vital importance
to my defence.
Mr. Justice North: I have pointed out to you what I consider
to be the question the jury have got to decide. I hope you
will not go outside the lines I have pointed out to you; but,
with these remarks, I am very reluctant to interfere with any
prisoner saying anything which he considers necessary, and I
will not stop you. I hope you will not abuse the concession
I consider I am making to you.
Mr. Foote: I should be very sorry, my lord. I am only stating
what I consider necessary."
This is a very fair specimen of his lordship's manners. Unfortunately,
it is also a fair specimen of his lordship's law. When I read similar
extracts in the Court of Queen's Bench, Lord Coleridge never interrupted
me once; nay, he told the jury that I had very properly brought those
passages before their notice, that I had a perfect right to do so, and
that it was a legitimate part of my defence. Since then I have conversed
with many gentlemen who were present, some of them belonging to the
legal profession, and I have heard but one opinion expressed as to Judge
North's conduct. They all agree that it was utterly undignified, and a
scandal to the bench. Perhaps it had something to do with his lordship's
removal, a few weeks afterwards, to the Chancery Court, where his
eccentricities, as the _Daily News_ remarked at the time, will no longer
endanger the liberty and lives of his fellow-subjects.
When I cited Fox's Libel Act and asked that my copy, purchased from the
Queen's printers, might be handed to the jury for their guidance, his
lordship sharply ordered the officer not to pass it to them. "I shall
tell them," he said, "what points they have to decide," as though I
had no right to press my own view. He would never have dared to treat
a defending counsel in that way, and he ought to have known that a
defendant in person has all the rights of a counsel, the latter having
absolutely no standing in court except so far as he represents a first
party in a suit. "May they not have a copy of the Act, my lord?" I
inquired. "No," replied his lordship, "they will take the law from the
directions I give them; not from reading Acts of Parliament." This is
directly counter to the spirit and letter of Fox's Act; and I suspect
that Judge North would have expressed himself more guardedly in a higher
court. If juries have nothing to do with Acts of Parliament, why are
statutes enacted? Judge North would be ashamed and afraid to speak in
that way before his superior brother judges at the Law Courts; but at
the Old Bailey he was absolute master of the situation, and he abused
his power. He knew there was no court of criminal appeal, and no danger
of his being checked by either of the fat aldermen on the bench. They
were in fact our prosecutors, and they appeared to enjoy their paltry
triumph.
As I have said, I began my address to the jury at one o'clock, and at
half-past we adjourned for lunch. Mr. Wheeler ran across the road and
ordered some refreshment for us, and pending its arrival we descended
the dock-stairs and entered a subterranean passage, which was lit by a
single gas-jet. On each side there was a little den with an iron gate.
One of these was filled with prisoners awaiting trial or sentence, who
gazed through the bars at us with mingled glee and astonishment. They
were chatting merrily, and I imagine from their free and easy manner
that most of them were old gaol-birds. Perhaps there were some forlorn,
miserable creatures cowering in the darkness behind, with throbbing
brows and hearts like lead, on whose ears the light laughter of their
callous companions grated even more harshly than it did on ours.
The left-hand den was empty, and into it we were ushered by the aged
janitor, who regarded us with looks of mute reproach. He was
evidently subdued to what he worked in. His world consisted of two
classes--criminals and police; and without any further ceremony of trial
and sentence, the very fact of our descending into his Inferno was clear
evidence that we belonged to the former class.
As the den was only illuminated by a few straggling gleams from the
gas-jet outside, we were unable to discriminate any object until our
eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. While we were in this state of
semi-blindness, something stirred. I wondered whether it was a dog or a
rat. The doubt was soon resolved. A human form reared itself up from the
bench against the wall, where it had been lying, not asleep indeed, but
half unconscious; and to our great surprise, it turned out to be Mr.
Cattell, who had surrendered to his bail at the same time as we did, and
had been shivering there ever since ten o'clock. After we left him he
continued shivering for three or four hours longer in that black-hole
of the Old Bailey, which struck a chill into our very bones even in the
brief period of our tenancy, and which could hardly be warmed by any
conflagration short of the last. It appeared damp as well as cold, and
a sinister effluvium came from a place of necessity at the back. Six
or seven hours' incarceration in such a place might injure a strong
constitution and seriously damage a weak one. Surely it is scandalous
that unconvicted prisoners, some of whom are eventually acquitted,
should suffer this unnecessary hardship and incur this unnecessary risk.
Presently our lunch arrived. The platefuls of meat and vegetables had
a savory smell, our appetites were keen, and our stomachs empty. But
a difficulty arose. There were forks, but no knives; those lethal
instruments being forbidden lest prisoners should attempt to cut their
throats. I subsequently had the use of a tin knife in Newgate, but even
that, which used to be common in prisons, is now proscribed. The only
carving instruments allowed the guests in her Majesty's hotels is a
wooden spoon, although the tin knife still lingers in the Houses of
Detention. Among other elaborate precautions against suicide, I found
that the prisoners awaiting trial were furnished with quill pens. Steel
pens had been banished after the desperate exploit of one poor wretch,
who had stabbed away at his windpipe with one, and inflicted such grave
injuries that the officials had great difficulty in saying his life.
But _revenons a nos moutons_, or rather our forks. We disposed of the
vegetables somehow, and as for the meat, we were obliged to split and
gnaw it after the fashion of our primitive ancestors. We drank out of
the mouth of the claret bottle, passing it round till it was emptied. It
was probably a good honest bottle, but in the circumstances it seemed a
despicable fraud. We tried hard for another supply, but we failed. Being
anxious to prevent a display of inebriety in the dock, or desirous
to repress rather than stimulate our audacity, the venerable janitor
interposed the most effectual obstacles, and we were constrained to
reason down the remnant of our thirst, which, if I may infer from my own
case, was almost as insensible to argument as the judge himself.
Feeling very cold, we essayed a little exercise. The dimensions of
our den, which were three steps each way, did not allow much play for
individuality. Erratic pedestrianism was clearly dangerous, so we
rushed round in Indian file, like braves on the warpath; and, by way of
relieving the tedium, we speculated on the number of laps in a mile.
Our proceedings seemed to strike the wild beasts in the opposite den as
unaccountable imbecility. They grinned at us through the bars with as
much delight as children might evince in the Zoological Gardens at
a performance of insane monkeys. But their amusement was suddenly
arrested. St. Peter appeared at the gate, flourishing his keys. It was
two o'clock.
What a strange sensation it was, mounting those dock stairs! More loudly
than my experiences below, it said--"You are a prisoner." The court was
densely crowded, and as I emerged into it, the sea of faces, suddenly
caught _en masse_, seemed cold and alien. The feeling was only
momentary, but I fancy it resembled the weird thrill that must have
swept through the ancient captive as he entered the Roman arena from his
dark lair, and confronted the vague host of indifferent faces that were
to watch his fight for life.
I resumed my address to the jury at two o'clock, and concluded it at
four. A considerable portion of that time was spent in altercations with
the judge, of which I have already given some striking specimens. Let me
now give another. It excited great laughter in court, and I confess the
situation was so comic that I could scarcely preserve my own gravity.
After quoting a number of "blasphemous" passages from the writings of
Professor Clifford, Lord Amberley, Matthew Arnold, the author of "The
Evolution of Christianity," Swinburne, Byron and Shelley, I proceeded
thus: "Now, gentlemen, I have given you a few illustrations of permitted
blasphemy in expensive books, and I will now trouble you with a few
instances of permitted blasphemy in cheap publications, which are
unmolested because they call themselves Christian, and because those
who conduct them are patronised by ecclesiastical dignitaries." Here
I produced a copy of the _War Cry_, in which I had marked a piece of
idiotic "blasphemy." Judge North scented mischief, and gestured to the
officer behind me. But that functionary was too deeply interested in the
case to make much haste, and, not wishing to be frustrated, I read
as rapidly as I could. Before he could arrest me I had finished the
extract. My auditors were all convulsed with laughter, except the judge,
who was convulsed with rage. As soon as he could articulate he addressed
me as follows:
Mr. Justice North: Now, Foote, I am going to put a stop to this.
I will not allow any more of these illustrations of what you
call permitted blasphemy in cheap publications. I decline to
have any more of them put before me.
Mr. Foote: My Lord, I will use them for another purpose, if
you will allow me.
Mr. Justice North: You will not use them here at all, sir.
Mr. Foote: May they not be used, my lord to show that an
equally free use of religious symbols, and religious language,
prevails widely in all classes of literature and society?
Mr. Justice North: No they may not. I decline to hear them
read. They are not in evidence, and I refuse to allow you to
quote from such documents as part of your speech.
Mr. Foote: Well, gentlemen, I will now ask your attention
very briefly to another branch of the subject.
The fact is, I was perfectly satisfied. I had purposely kept the _War
Cry_ till the last. It naturally ended my list of citations, and his
lordship's victory was entirely specious.
Those who may wish to read my address in its entirety will find it in
"The Three Trials for Blasphemy." For those, however, who are not so
curious or so painstaking, I give here the peroration only, to show
what sentiments I appealed to in the breasts of the jury, and how far my
defence was from boastfulness or servility:
"Gentlemen,--I told you at the outset that you, are the last
Court of Appeal on all questions affecting the liberty of the
press and the right of free speech and Freethought. When I say
Freethought, I do not refer to specific doctrines that may pass
under that name: I refer to the great right of Freethought, that
Freethought which is neither so low as a cottage nor so lofty
as a pyramid, but is like the soaring azure vault of heaven,
which over-arches both with equal case. I ask you to affirm
the liberty of the press, to show by your verdict that you
are prepared to give to others the same freedom that you claim
for yourselves. I ask you not to be misled by the statements
that have been thrown out by the prosecution, nor by the authority
and influence of the mighty and rich Corporation which commenced
this action, has found the money for it, and whose very solicitor
was bound over to prosecute. I ask you not to be influenced
by these considerations, but rather to remember that this present
attack is made upon us probably because we are connected with
those who have been struck at again and again by some of the
very persons who are engaged in this prosecution; to remember
that England is growing day by day in its humanity and love
of freedom; and that, as blasphemy has been an offence less
and less proceeded against during the past century, so there
will probably be fewer and fewer proceedings against it in the next.
Indeed, there may never be another prosecution for blasphemy,
and I am sure you would not like to have it weigh on your minds
that you were the instruments of the last act of persecution--
that you were the last jury who sent to be caged like wild
beasts men against whose honesty there has been no charge.
I am quite sure you will not allow yourselves to be made the
agents of sending such men to herd with the lowest criminals,
and to be subjected to all the indignities such punishment involves.
I am sure you will send me, as well as my co-defendants, back
to our homes and friends, who do not think the worse of us
for the position in which we stand: that you will send us,
back to them unstained, giving a verdict of Not Guilty for me
and my co-defendants, instead of a verdict of Guilty for the
prosecution; and thus, as English juries have again and again
done before, vindicate the glorious principle of the freedom
of the press, against all the religious and political factions
that may seek to impugn it for their own ends."
The court officials could not stifle the burst of applause that greeted
my peroration. I had flung all my books and papers aside and faced the
jury. I spoke in passionate accents. My expression and gestures were
doubtless full of that dramatic power which comes of earnest sincerity.
I felt every sentiment I uttered, and I believe I made the jury feel it
too, for they were visibly impressed, and their emotion was obviously
shared by the crowd of listeners who represented the greater jury of
public opinion.
Mr. Ramsey followed me with a speech which he read from manuscript. It
occupied half an hour in delivery. It was terse and vigorous, and it
really covered most of the ground in debate. I listened to it with
pleasure as an admirable summary of our position. But it lost much of
its force in being read instead of spoken extemporaneously, and its very
virtues as a paper were its defects as an address. The points wanted
elaboration. Before they had fairly mastered one argument, the jury were
hurried on to another. Mr. Ramsey is by no means incapable of making
a forcible speech, and I think he should have trusted to his power
of improvisation. There was no need for a long effort. He might have
concentrated himself on a few salient points of our defence, and pressed
them on the jury with all his might. His own sentiments, naturally
expressed, in homely language, would have had a greater effect than any
literary composition. After an experience of three trials, I would give
this advice to every man who has to defend himself before a jury on
a charge of blasphemy or sedition--"Write out on a sheet of paper the
heads of your defence. Number them in the order you think they should
be treated, so that your address may have a logical continuity. Fill in
your sub-divisions, similarly numbered, under the chief heads, beginning
the lines half-way across the page, so as to catch the eye readily.
Think every clause out carefully. Fix every illustration in your mind
until it becomes almost a fact of memory. Don't write out fine passages
and try to remember them verbally. Write nothing; it will only
confuse you, unless you have long practised that method. When you
have systematised your thoughts, and think your written arrangement is
complete, ponder it clause by clause with the paper at hand for constant
reference. No matter if your thoughts seem to wander, and the subject
appears to grow vague; your mind is dwelling on it, and ideas will
fructify in your mind unconsciously as seeds sprout in the dark. When
the hour of trial arrives, arm yourself with the familiar paper, trust
to your own courage, and speak out. You will have thoughts, and nature
will find you words."
Justice North's summing-up was simply a clever and unscrupulous bit
of special pleading. Sir Hardinge Giffard had left the court, and his
friend on the bench conducted his case for him. He told the jury that I
had wasted their time, and indulged in a number of other insults, which
might be pardonable in a legal hack bent on earning his client's fee,
but were scarcely consistent with the dignity and impartiality of a
judge. His tone was even worse than his words. He had no sympathy
with us in our desperate effort to defend our liberty against such
overwhelming odds, nor did we solicit any; but we had a right to expect
him to refrain from constant expressions of antipathy. That, however,
was not the whole of his offence against the rules of justice. He
recurred to the bad old example of Lord Ellenborough in devoting most of
his time to answering my arguments. Lord Coleridge remarked in the Court
of Queen's Bench that such a task was not for the judge, but for the
counsel on the other side of the case. I wish his lordship had read a
lesson to Justice North on that subject before he presided at our trial.
There is only one passage of his summing-up that I wish to criticise
fully. It contains his statement of the Law of Blasphemy. But as he made
a very different statement four days later on at our second trial, I
prefer to wait until, by placing these discrepant utterances together, I
can give the reader a fair idea of Justice North's authority as a legal
oracle.
The jury retired at five o'clock. Justice North kept his seat, probably
fancying they would soon agree to a verdict of Guilty. But as the
minutes went by, and the result seemed after all dubious, he resorted
to a paltry trick. Notwithstanding the late hour, he had Mr. Cattell
brought into the dock for trial. By procuring a verdict against _him_
our jury might be influenced. According to theory, of course, the jury
hold no communication with the world while in deliberation; but it is
well known that officers of the court have access to them, and tidings
of Mr. Cattell's fate could be easily conveyed.
We stepped down the stairs, out of sight but not out of hearing, and
made way for Mr. Cattell to take our place in the dock. He was very pale
with cold and apprehension, and too timid to take a seat, he stood with
his hands resting on the top ledge. The evidence against him was very
brief. Instead of defending himself he had employed counsel. That
gentleman admitted the "horrible character of the publication, so
eloquently denounced by the learned judge." He said that his client
could not for a moment think of defending it; in fact, he had only sold
it in ignorance, and he would never repeat the offence. On the ground of
that ignorance and that promise, it was hoped that the jury would return
a verdict of Not Guilty. Mr. Cattell declares that he never instructed
his counsel to say anything of the kind; but all I know is that it
_was_ said, and that while our cheeks were tingling with shame and
indignation, he heard it all without a word of protest.
Judge North acted openly as counsel for the prosecution in this trial.
There was not the slightest disguise. He took the case completely
into his own hands, examined and cross-examined. His summing-up was a
disgusting exhibition. Naturally enough the jury returned a verdict of
Guilty without leaving the box; but sentence was deferred until our jury
had also agreed.
By this time, I felt convinced they would _not_ agree, and every minute
strengthened my belief. While they deliberated we were all conducted
to the subterranean den, where we kept each other in good spirits. St.
Peter brought us some water to drink in a dirty tin can. We tasted it,
found that a little of it was more than enough, and declined to hazard
a further experiment on our health. At last, after two hours and ten
minutes' waiting, we were summoned back to the dock. There was profound
silence in court, and as the jury filed into their seats a painful sense
of expectation pervaded the assembly. His lordship said that he had
called them into court to see whether he could assist them in any way,
and especially by explaining the law to them again. The foreman, in a
very quiet, composed manner, replied that they all understood the law,
but there was no chance of their agreeing. His lordship invited them to
try a further consultation, to which the foreman replied that it would
be useless. "Then," said his lordship, "I am very sorry to say I must
discharge you, and have the case tried again." Then, turning to the
Clerk of Arraigns, he added, "I will attend here on Monday and try the
case again with a different jury." This was against the ordinary rule of
the court, and the sessions had to be prolonged into the next week
for our sakes; but his lordship could not deny himself the luxury of
sentencing us. He had set his heart on sending us to gaol, and would not
be baulked.
We naturally expected to be liberated till Monday, and I formally
applied for a renewal of our bail. But his lordship refused my
application in the most peremptory and insulting manner. I pointed out
that I should require a proper opportunity to prepare another defence
for the second trial, to which his lordship replied, "You will have the
same opportunity then that you have now." He then hurriedly left the
bench, and we were in custody of the Governor of Newgate. Several
friends rushed forward to shake hands with us over the dock rail, and
there were loud cries of "Bravo, jury!" Presently we descended to the
Inferno again, from which we were conducted by a long subterranean
passage to Newgate prison.
Judge North's action was simply vindictive. Even if we were guilty
our offence was only a misdemeanor. We had been out on bail from the
beginning of the prosecution, we had duly surrendered to trial, after
the jury's disagreement we really stood in a better position than
before, and there was not the slightest reason to suppose that we might
abscond. On the other hand, it was clear that we were fighting against
long odds. The rich City Corporation was prosecuting us regardless
of expense, and their case was conducted by three of the most skilful
lawyers in London. Reason, justice and humanity, alike demanded that we
should enjoy freedom and comfort while marshalling our resources for a
fresh battle. Judge North, however, thought otherwise; in his opinion we
required a different kind of "opportunity." He locked us up in a prison
cell, excluded us from light and air, deprived us of all communication
with each other, and debarred us from all intercourse with the outside
world except during fifteen minutes each day through an iron grating.
Such malignity is an unpardonable crime in a judge. There may have been
some bad criminals in Newgate when I entered it, but I would rather have
embraced the worst of them than have touched the hand of Judge North.