Shewing that lay tribunals are not exactly Punch and Judy shows where the
puppet is moved by the man underneath.
It was particularly fortunate for Mr. Bumpkin that his case was not in
the list of causes to be tried on the following day. It may seem a
curious circumstance to the general reader that a great case like
_Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_, involving so much expense of time, trouble, and
money should be in the list one day and out the next; should be sometimes
in the list of one Court and sometimes in the list of another; flying
about like a butterfly from flower to flower and caught by no one on the
look-out for it. But this is not a phenomenon in our method of
procedure, which startles you from time to time with its miraculous
effects. You can calculate upon nothing in the system but its
uncertainty. Most gentle and innocent reader, I saw that there was no
Nisi Prius Court to sit on the following day, so _Bumpkin_ v. _Snooks_
could not be taken, list or no list. The lucky Plaintiff therefore found
himself at liberty to appear before that August Tribunal which sits at
the Mansion House in the City of London. A palatial and imposing
building it was on the outside, but within, so far as was apparent to me,
it was a narrow ill ventilated den, full of all unclean people and
unpleasant smells. I say full of unclean people, but I allude merely to
that portion of it which was appropriated to the British Public; for,
exalted on a high bench and in a huge and ponderous chair or throne sat
the Prince of Citizens and the King of the Corporation, proud in his
dignity, grand in his commercial position, and highly esteemed in the
opinion of the world. There he sat, the representative of the Criminal
Law, and impartial, as all will allow, in its administration. Wonderful
being is my Lord Mayor, thought I, he must have the Law at his fingers'
ends. Yes, there it is sitting under him in the shape and person of his
truly respectable clerk. The Common Law resides in the breasts of the
Judges, but it is here at my Lord Mayor's fingers' ends. He has to deal
with gigantic commercial frauds; with petty swindlers, common thieves;
mighty combinations of conspirators; with extradition laws; with
elaborate bankruptcy delinquencies; with the niceties of the criminal law
in every form and shape. Surely, thought I, he should be one of those
tremendous geniuses who can learn the criminal law before breakfast, or
at least before dinner! So he was. His lordship seemed to have learned
it one morning before he was awake. But it is not for me to criticise
tribunals or men: I have the simple duty to perform of relating the story
of the renowned Mr. Bumpkin.
After the night charges are disposed of up comes the man through the
floor, not Mr. Bumpkin, but Mr. Bumpkin's prisoner. He comes up through
the floor like the imp in the pantomime: and then the two tall warders
prevent his going any farther.
He was a pale, intelligent looking creature, fairly dressed in frock
coat, dark waistcoat and grey trousers, with a glove on his left hand and
another in his right; looked meekly and modestly round, and then politely
bowed to the Lord Mayor. The charge was then read to him and with a
smile he indignantly repudiated the idea of theft.
And I saw in my dream that he was represented by a learned Counsel, who
at this moment entered the Court, shook hands with the Lord Mayor, and
saying, "I appear, my lord, for the prisoner," took his seat upon the
bench, and entered for a minute or so into some private and apparently
jocular conversation with his Lordship.
The name of the learned Counsel was Mr. Nimble, whom we have before seen.
He was a very goodly-shaped man, with a thin face and brown hair. His
eyes were bright, and always seemed to look into a witness rather than at
him. His manner was jaunty, good-natured, easy, and gay; not remarkable
for courtesy, but at the same time, not unpleasantly rude. I thought the
learned Counsel could be disagreeable if he liked, but might be a very
pleasant, sociable fellow to spend an hour with--not in the witness-box.
He was certainly a skilful and far-seeing Counsel, if I may make so bold
as to judge from this case. And methought that nothing he did or said
was said or done without a purpose. Nor could I help thinking that a
good many Counsel, young and old, if their minds were free from
prejudice, might learn many lessons from this case. It is with this
object that, in my waking moments, I record the impressions of this
dream. I do not say Mr. Nimble was an example to follow on all points,
for he had that common failing of humanity, a want of absolute
perfection. But he was as near to perfection in defending a prisoner as
any man I ever saw, and the proceedings in this very case, if carefully
analysed, will go a long way towards proving that assertion.
After the interchange of courtesies between his Lordship and Mr. Nimble,
the learned Counsel looked down from the Bench on to the top of Mr.
Keepimstraight's bald head and nodded as if he were patting it. Mr.
Keepimstraight was the Lord Mayor's Clerk. He was very stout and seemed
puffed up with law: had an immense regard for himself and consequently
very little for anybody else: but that, so far as I have been able to
ascertain, is a somewhat common failing among official personages. He
ordered everybody about except the Lord Mayor, and him he seemed to push
about as though he were wheeling him in a legal Bath-chair. His Lordship
was indeed a great invalid in respect to matters of law; I think he had
overdone it, if I may use the expression; his study must have been
tremendous to have acquired a knowledge of the laws of England in so
short a time. But being somewhat feeble, and in his modesty much
misdoubting his own judgment, he did nothing and said nothing, except it
was prescribed by his physician, Dr. Keepimstraight. Even the solicitors
stood in awe of Dr. Keepimstraight.
And now we are all going to begin--Walk up!
The intelligent and decent-looking prisoner having been told what the
charge against him was, namely, Highway Robbery with violence, declares
that he is as "innercent as the unborn babe, your lordship:" and then Mr.
Keepimstraight asks, where the Prosecutor is--"Prosecutor!" shout a dozen
voices at once--all round, everywhere is the cry of "Prosecutor!" There
was no answer, but in the midst of the unsavoury crowd there was seen to
be a severe scuffle--whether it was a fight or a man in a fit could not
be ascertained for some time; at length Mr. Bumpkin was observed
struggling and tearing to escape from the throng.
"Why don't you come when you are called?" asks the Junior Clerk, handing
him the Testament, as Mr. Bumpkin stood revealed in the witness-box.
And I saw that he was dressed in a light frock, not unlike a pinafore,
which was tastefully wrought with divers patterns of needlework on the
front and back thereof; at the openings thus embroidered could be seen a
waistcoat of many stripes, that crossed and recrossed one another at
various angles and were formed of several colours. He wore a high calico
shirt collar, which on either side came close under the ear; and round
his neck a red handkerchief with yellow ends. His linen certainly did
credit to Mrs. Bumpkin's love of "tidiness," and altogether the
prosecutor wore a clean and respectable appearance. His face was broad,
round and red, indicating a jovial disposition and a temperament not
easily disturbed, except when "whate" was down too low to sell and he
wanted to buy stock or pay the rent: a state of circumstances which I
believe has sometimes happened of late years. A white short-clipped
beard covered his chin, while his cheeks were closely shaven. He had
twinkling oval eyes, which I should say, he invariably half-closed when
he was making a bargain. If you offered less than his price the first
refusal would come from them. His nose was inexpressive and appeared to
have been a dormant feature for many a year. It said nothing for or
against any thing or any body, and from its tip sprouted a few white
hairs. His mouth, without utterance, said plainly enough that he owed
"nobody nothink" and was a thousand pound man every morning he rose. It
was a mouth of good bore, and not by any means intended for a silver
spoon.
Such was the Prosecutor as he stood in the witness-box at the Mansion
House on this memorable occasion; and no one could doubt that truth and
justice would prevail.
"Name?" said Mr. Keepimstraight.
"Bumpkin."
Down it goes.
"Where?"
After a pause, which Mr. Nimble makes a note of.
"Where?" repeats Keepimstraight.
"Westminister."
"Where there?"
"'Goose' publichouse."
Down it goes.
"Yes?" says Keepimstraight.
Bumpkin stares.
"Yes, go on," says the clerk.
"Go on," says the crier; "go on," say half-a-dozen voices all round.
"Can't you go on?" says the clerk.
"Tell your story," says his Lordship, putting his arms on the elbows of
the huge chair. "Tell it in your own way, my man."
"I wur gwine down thic place when--" "my man" began.
"What time was this?" asks the clerk.
"Arf arter four, as near as I can tell."
"How do you know?" asks the clerk.
"I heard--"
"I object," says the Counsel--"can't tell us what he heard."
Then I perceived that the Lord Mayor leant forward towards Mr.
Keepimstraight, and the latter gentleman turned his head and leaned
towards the Lord Mayor, so that his Lordship could obtain a full view of
Mr. Keepimstraight's eyes.
Then I perceived that Mr. Keepimstraight winked his left eye and
immediately turned to his work again, and his Lordship said:
"I don't think what you heard, witness, is evidence."
"Can't have that," said Mr. Keepimstraight, as though he took his
instructions and the Law from his Lordship.
"You said it was half-past four."
"Heard the clock strike th' arf hour."
Here his Lordship leant again forward and Mr. Keepimstraight turned round
so as to bring his eyes into the same position as heretofore. And I
perceived that Mr. Keepimstraight winked his right eye, upon which his
Lordship said:
"I think that's evidence."
Clerk whispered, behind his hand, "Can hardly exclude that."
"Can hardly exclude that," repeats his Lordship; then--turning to the
Learned Counsel--"Can't shut that out, Mr. Nimble."
"You seldom can shut a church clock out, my Lord," replies the Counsel.
At this answer his Lordship smiled and the Court was convulsed with
laughter for several minutes.
"Now, then," said Mr. Keepimstraight, "we must have order in Court."
"We must have order in Court," says his Lordship.
"Order in Court," says the Junior Clerk, and "Order!" shouts the
Policeman on duty.
Then Mr. Bumpkin stated in clear and intelligible language how the man
came up and took his watch and ran away. Foolishly enough he said
nothing about the woman with the baby, and wisely enough Mr. Nimble asked
nothing about it. But what an opportunity this would have been for an
unskilful Counsel to lay the foundation for a conviction. Knowing, as he
probably would from the prisoner but from no other possible source about
the circumstance, he might have shown by a question or two that it was a
conspiracy between the prisoner and the young woman. Not so Mr. Nimble,
he knew how to make an investment of this circumstance for future profit:
indeed Mr. Bumpkin had invested it for him by not mentioning it.
Beautiful is Advocacy if you do not mar it by unskilful handling.
When, after describing the robbery, the prosecutor continued:
"I ses to my companion, ses I--"
"I object," says Mr. Nimble.
And I perceived that his Lordship leant forward once more towards Mr.
Keepimstraight, and Mr. Keepimstraight turned as aforetime towards the
Lord Mayor, but not quite, I thought, so fully round as heretofore; the
motion seemed to be performed with less exactness than usual, and that
probably was why the operation miscarried. Mr. Keepimstraight having
given the correct signal, as he thought, and the Enginedriver on the
Bench having misunderstood it, an accident naturally would have taken
place but for the extreme caution and care of his Lordship, who, if he
had been a young Enginedriver, would in all probability have dashed on
neck or nothing through every obstacle. Not so his Lordship. Not being
sure whether he was on the up or down line, he pulled up.
Mr. Keepimstraight sat pen in hand looking at his paper, and waiting for
the judicial voice which should convey to his ear the announcement that
"I ses, ses I," is evidence or no evidence. Judge then of Mr.
Keepimstraight's disappointment when, after waiting in breathless silence
for some five minutes, he at last looks up and sees his Lordship in deep
anxiety to catch his eye without the public observing it. His Lordship
leant forward, blushing with innocence, and whispered something behind
his hand to Mr. Keepimstraight. And in my dream I heard his Lordship
ask:
"_Which eye_?"
To which Mr. Keepimstraight as coolly as if nothing had happened,
whispered behind his hand:
"_Left_!" and then coughed.
"O then," exclaimed his Lordship, "it is clearly not evidence."
"It's not evidence," repeated the clerk; and then to the discomfiture of
Mr. Nimble, he went on, "You say you had a companion."
This was more than the learned Counsel wanted, seeing as he did that
there was another investment to be made if he could only manage it.
Mr. Bumpkin blushed now, but said nothing.
"Would you excuse me," said Mr. Nimble; "I shall not cross-examine this
witness."
"O, very good," says Keepimstraight, thinking probably it was to be a
plea of guilty hereafter; "very good. Then I think that is all--is that
the watch?"
"It be," said the witness; "I ken swear to un."
It certainly would be from no want of metal if Mr. Bumpkin could not
identify the timepiece, for it was a ponderous-looking watch, nearly as
large as a tea-saucer.
Then said Mr. Nimble:
"You say that is your watch, do you?"
"It spakes for itself."
"I don't think that's evidence," says Mr. Keepimstraight, with a smile.
"That's clearly not evidence," says the Lord Mayor, gravely. Whereupon
there was another burst of laughter, in which the clerk seemed to take
the lead. The remarkable fact, however, was, that his Lordship was
perfectly at a loss to comprehend the joke. He was "as grave as a
Judge."
After the laughter had subsided, the learned Keepimstraight leaned
backward, and the learned Lord Mayor leaned forward, and it seemed to me
they were conversing together about the cause of the laughter; for
suddenly a smile illuminated the rubicund face of the cheery Lord Mayor,
and at last he had a laugh to himself--a solo, after the band had ceased.
And then his Lordship spoke:
"What your watch may say is not evidence, because it has not been sworn."
Then the band struck up again to a lively tune, his Lordship playing the
first Fiddle; and the whole scene terminated in the most humorous and
satisfactory manner for all parties--_except_, perhaps, the prisoner--who
was duly committed for trial to the next sittings of the Central Criminal
Court, which were to take place in a fortnight.
Mr. Bumpkin naturally asked for his watch, but that request was smilingly
refused.
"Bin in our famly forty years," exclaimed the prisoner.
"Will you be quiet?" said Mr. Nimble petulantly, for it was a foolish
observation for the prisoner to make, inasmuch as, if Mr. Bumpkin had
been represented by professional skill, the remark would surely be met at
the trial with abundant evidence to disprove it. Mr. Bumpkin at present,
however, has no professional skill.
* * * * *
Here something disturbed me, and I awoke. While preparing to enjoy my
pipe as was my custom in these intervals, my wife remarked:
"I do not approve of that Master O'Rapley by any means, with his
cynicisms and sarcasms and round squares. Did ever anyone hear of such a
contradiction?"
"Have patience," quoth I, "and we shall see how worthy Master O'Rapley
makes it out. I conjecture that he means the same thing that we hear of
under the term, 'putting the round peg into the square hole.'"
"But why should such a thing be done when it is easy surely to find a
square peg that would fit?"
"Granted; but the master-hand may be under obligations to the round peg;
or the round peg may be a disagreeable peg, or a hundred things: one
doesn't know. I am but a humble observer of human nature, and like not
these ungracious cavillings at Master O'Rapley. Let us calmly follow
this dream, and endeavour to profit by its lessons without finding fault
with its actors."
"But I would like to have a better explanation of that Round Square,
nevertheless," muttered my wife as she went on with her knitting. So to
appease her I discoursed as follows:--
"The round square," said I, "means the inappropriate combination of
opposites."
"Now, not too long words," said she, "and not too much philosophy."
"Very well, my dear," I continued; "Don O'Rapley is right, not in his
particular instance, but in the general application of his meaning. Look
around upon the world, or so much of it as is comprised within our own
limited vision, and what do you find?"
"I find everything," said my wife, "beautifully ordered and arranged,
from the Archbishop of Canterbury to the Parish Beadle."
"What do you find?" I repeated. "Mark the O'Rapley's knowledge of human
nature, you not only find Waterloos won in the Cricket-field of Eton, but
Bishopricks and Secretaryships and many other glorious victories; so that
you might--"
"Don't be foolish; Trafalgar was not won in the Cricket-field."
"No, but it was fought on the Isis or the Cam, I forget which. But carry
the O'Rapley's theory into daily life, and test it by common observation,
what do you find? Why, that this round square is by no means a modern
invention. It has been worked in all periods of our history. Here is a
Vicar with a rich benefice, intended by nature for a Jockey or a
Whipper-in--"
"What, the benefice?"
"No, the Vicar! Here is a barrister who ought to have been a curate, and
become enthusiastic over worked slippers: there is another thrust into a
Government appointment, not out of respect to him, the Minister doesn't
know him, but to serve a political friend, or to place an investment in
the hands of a political rival, who will return it with interest on a
future day. The gentleman thus provided for at the country's expense
would, if left to himself, have probably become an excellent
billiard-marker or pigeon-shooter. Here is another, who, although a
member of Parliament, was elected by no constituency under Heaven or
above it; and it is clear he was intended by Nature for a position where
obsequiousness and servility meet with their appropriate reward. Another
fills the post of some awful Commissioner of something, drawing an
immense salary, and doing an immense amount of mischief for it, intended
naturally for a secretary to an Autocratic Nobleman, who would trample
the rights of the people under foot. Here is another--"
"O pray, my dear, do not let us have another--"
"Only one more," said I; "here is another, thrust into the Cabinet for
being so disagreeable a fellow, who ought to have been engaged in making
fireworks for Crystal Palace fetes."
"But this is only an opinion of yours; how do you know these gentlemen
are not fitted for the posts they occupy? surely if they do the work--"
"The public would have no right to grumble."
"And as for obsequiousness and servility, I am afraid those are epithets
too often unjustly applied to those gentlemen whose courteous demeanour
wins them the respect of their superiors."
"Quite so," said I; "and I don't see that it matters what is the
distinguishing epithet you apply to them: this courteous demeanour or
obsequiousness is no doubt the very best gift Nature can bestow upon an
individual as an outfit for the voyage of life."
"Dear me, you were complaining but just now of its placing men in
positions for which they were not qualified."
"Not complaining, my love; only remarking. I go in for obsequiousness,
and trust I shall never be found wanting in that courteous demeanour
towards my superiors which shall lead to my future profit."
"But would you have men only courteous?"
"By no means, I would have them talented also."
"But in what proportion would you have the one to the other?"
"I would have the same proportion maintained that exists between the
rudder and the ship: you want just enough tact to steer your
obsequiousness."
Here again I dozed.