THE OLD BAILEY
The next morning, at ten o'clock, the court was again crowded. The
judge was again on his bench, prepared for patient endurance; and Lord
Killtime and Sir Gregory Hardlines were alongside of him. The jury were
again in their box, ready with pen and paper to give their brightest
attention--a brightness which will be dim enough before the long day be
over; the counsel for the prosecution were rummaging among their papers;
the witnesses for the defence were sitting there among the attorneys,
with the exception of the Honourable Undecimus Scott, who was
accommodated with a seat near the sheriff, and whose heart, to tell the
truth, was sinking somewhat low within his breast, in spite of the glass
of brandy with which he had fortified himself. Alaric was again present
under the wings of Mr. Gitemthruet; and the great Mr. Chaffanbrass was
in his place. He was leaning over a slip of paper which he held in
his hand, and with compressed lips was meditating his attack upon his
enemies; on this occasion his wig was well over his eyes, and as he
peered up from under it to the judge's face, he cocked his nose with an
air of supercilious contempt for all those who were immediately around
him.
It was for him to begin the day's sport by making a speech, not so much
in defence of his client as in accusation of the prosecutors. 'It had
never,' he said, 'been his fate, he might say his misfortune, to hear a
case against a man in a respectable position, opened by the Crown with
such an amount of envenomed virulence.' He was then reminded that the
prosecution was not carried on by the Crown. 'Then,' said he, 'we
may attribute this virulence to private malice; that it is not to be
attributed to any fear that this English bride should lose her fortune,
or that her French husband should be deprived of any portion of his
spoil, I shall be able to prove to a certainty. Did I allow myself that
audacity of denunciation which my learned friend has not considered
incompatible with the dignity of his new silk gown? Could I permit
myself such latitude of invective as he has adopted?'--a slight laugh
was here heard in the court, and an involuntary smile played across the
judge's face--'yes,' continued Mr. Chaffanbrass, 'I boldly aver that I
have never forgotten myself, and what is due to humanity, as my learned
friend did in his address to the jury. Gentlemen of the jury, you
will not confound the natural indignation which counsel must feel when
defending innocence from the false attacks, with the uncalled-for, the
unprofessional acerbity which has now been used in promoting such an
accusation as this. I may at times be angry, when I see mean falsehood
before me in vain assuming the garb of truth--for with such juries as
I meet here it generally is in vain--I may at times forget myself in
anger; but, if we talk of venom, virulence, and eager hostility, I yield
the palm, without a contest, to my learned friend in the new silk gown.'
He then went on to dispose of the witnesses whom they had heard on the
previous day, and expressed a regret that an _exposé_ should have been
made so disgraceful to the commercial establishments of this
great commercial city. It only showed what was the effect on such
establishments of that undue parsimony which was now one of the crying
evils of the times. Having thus shortly disposed of them, he came to
what all men knew was the real interest of the day's doings. 'But,' said
he, 'the evidence in this case, to which your attention will be chiefly
directed, will be, not that for the accusation, but that for the
defence. It will be my business to show to you, not only that my client
is guiltless, but to what temptations to be guilty he has been purposely
and wickedly subjected. I shall put into that bar an honourable member
of the House of Commons, who will make some revelations as to his
own life, who will give us an insight into the ways and means of a
legislator, which will probably surprise us all, not excluding his
lordship on the bench. He will be able to explain to us--and I trust I
may be able to induce him to do so, for it is possible that he may be a
little coy--he will be able to explain to us why my client, who is in no
way connected either with the Scotts, or the Golightlys, or the Figgs,
or the Jaquêtanàpes, why he was made the lady's trustee; and he will
also, perhaps, tell us, after some slight, gentle persuasion, whether he
has himself handled, or attempted to handle, any of this lady's money.'
Mr. Chaffanbrass then went on to state that, as the forms of the court
would not give him the power of addressing the jury again, he must now
explain to them what he conceived to be the facts of the case. He then
admitted that his client, in his anxiety to do the best he could with
the fortune entrusted to him, had invested it badly. The present fate
of these unfortunate bridge shares, as to which the commercial world
had lately held so many different opinions, proved that: but it had
nevertheless been a _bona fide_ investment, made in conjunction with,
and by the advice of, Mr. Scott, the lady's uncle, who thus, for his own
purposes, got possession of money which was in truth confided to him for
other purposes. His client, Mr. Chaffanbrass acknowledged, had behaved
with great indiscretion; but the moment he found that the investment
would be an injurious one to the lady whose welfare was in his hands, he
at once resolved to make good the whole amount from his own pocket. That
he had done so, or, at any rate, would have done so, but for this trial,
would be proved to them. Nobler conduct than this it was impossible to
imagine. Whereas, the lady's uncle, the honourable member of Parliament,
the gentleman who had made a stalking-horse of his, Mr. Chaffanbrass's,
client, refused to refund a penny of the spoil, and was now the
instigator of this most unjust proceeding.
As Mr. Chaffanbrass thus finished his oration, Undy Scott tried to smile
complacently on those around him. But why did the big drops of
sweat stand on his brow as his eye involuntarily caught those of Mr.
Chaffanbrass? Why did he shuffle his feet, and uneasily move his hands
and feet hither and thither, as a man does when he tries in vain to be
unconcerned? Why did he pull his gloves on and off, and throw himself
back with that affected air which is so unusual to him? All the court
was looking at him, and every one knew that he was wretched. Wretched!
aye, indeed he was; for the assurance even of an Undy Scott, the
hardened man of the clubs, the thrice elected and twice rejected of
Tillietudlem, fell prostrate before the well-known hot pincers of
Chaffanbrass, the torturer!
The first witness called was Henry Norman. Alaric looked up for a moment
with surprise, and then averted his eyes. Mr. Gitemthruet had concealed
from him the fact that Norman was to be called. He merely proved
this, that having heard from Mrs. Woodward, who was the prisoner's
mother-in-law, and would soon be his own mother-in-law, that a
deficiency had been alleged to exist in the fortune of Madame
Jaquêtanàpe, he had, on the part of Mrs. Woodward, produced what he
believed would cover this deficiency, and that when he had been informed
that more money was wanting, he had offered to give security that the
whole should be paid in six months. Of course, on him Mr. Chaffanbrass
exercised none of his terrible skill, and as the lawyers on the other
side declined to cross-examine him, he was soon able to leave the court.
This he did speedily, for he had no desire to witness Alaric's misery.
And then the Honourable Undecimus Scott was put into the witness-box. It
was suggested, on his behalf, that he might give his evidence from the
seat which he then occupied, but this Mr. Chaffanbrass would by no means
allow. His intercourse with Mr. Scott, he said, must be of a nearer,
closer, and more confidential nature than such an arrangement as that
would admit. A witness, to his way of thinking, was never an efficient
witness till he had his arm on the rail of a witness-box. He must
trouble Mr. Scott to descend from the grandeur of his present position;
he might return to his seat after he had been examined--if he then
should have a mind to do so. Our friend Undy found that he had to obey,
and he was soon confronted with Mr. Chaffanbrass in the humbler manner
which that gentleman thought so desirable.
'You are a member of the House of Commons, I believe, Mr. Scott?' began
Mr. Chaffanbrass.
Undy acknowledged that he was so.
'And you are the son of a peer, I believe?'
'A Scotch peer,' said Undy.
'Oh, a Scotch peer,' said Mr. Chaffanbrass, bringing his wig forward
over his left eye in a manner that was almost irresistible--'a Scotch
peer--a member of Parliament, and son of a Scotch peer; and you have
been a member of the Government, I believe, Mr. Scott?'
Undy confessed that he had been in office for a short time.
'A member of Parliament, a son of a peer, and one of the Government of
this great and free country. You ought to be a proud and a happy man.
You are a man of fortune, too, I believe, Mr. Scott?'
'That is a matter of opinion,' said Undy; 'different people have
different ideas. I don't know what you call fortune.'
'Why I call £20,000 a fortune--this sum that the lady had who married
the Frenchman. Have you £20,000?'
'I shall not answer that question.'
'Have you £10,000? You surely must have as much as that, as I know you
married a fortune yourself,--unless, indeed, a false-hearted trustee has
got hold of your money also. Come, have you got £10,000?'
'I shall not answer you.'
'Have you got any income at all? Now, I demand an answer to that on your
oath, sir.'
'My lord, must I answer such questions?' said Undy.
'Yes, sir; you must answer them, and many more like them,' said Mr.
Chaffanbrass. 'My lord, it is essential to my client that I should prove
to the jury whether this witness is or is not a penniless adventurer; if
he be a respectable member of society, he can have no objection to let
me know whether he has the means of living.'
'Perhaps, Mr. Scott,' said the judge, 'you will not object to state
whether or no you possess any fixed income.'
'Have you, or have you not, got an income on which you live?' demanded
Mr. Chaffanbrass.
'I have an income,' said Undy, not, however, in a voice that betokened
much self-confidence in the strength of his own answer.
'You have an income, have you? And now, Mr. Scott, will you tell us what
profession you follow at this moment with the object of increasing your
income? I think we may surmise, by the tone of your voice, that your
income is not very abundant.'
'I have no profession,' said Undy.
'On your oath, you are in no profession?'
'Not at present.'
'On your oath, you are not a stock-jobber?'
Undy hesitated for a moment.
'By the virtue of your oath, sir, are you a stock-jobber, or are you
not?'
'No, I am not. At least, I believe not.'
'You believe not!' said Mr. Chaffanbrass--and it would be necessary to
hear the tone in which this was said to understand the derision which
was implied. 'You believe you are not a stock-jobber! Are you, or
are you not, constantly buying shares and selling shares--railway
shares--bridge shares--mining shares--and such-like?'
'I sometimes buy shares.'
'And sometimes sell them?'
'Yes--and sometimes sell them.'
Where Mr. Chaffanbrass had got his exact information, we cannot say;
but very exact information he had acquired respecting Undy's
little transactions. He questioned him about the Mary Janes and Old
Friendships, about the West Corks and the Ballydehob Branch, about
sundry other railways and canals, and finally about the Limehouse
bridge; and then again he asked his former question. 'And now,' said he,
'will you tell the jury whether you are a stock-jobber or no?'
'It is all a matter of opinion,' said Undy. 'Perhaps I may be, in your
sense of the word.'
'My sense of the word!' said Mr. Chaffanbrass. 'You are as much a
stock-jobber, sir, as that man is a policeman, or his lordship is
a judge. And now, Mr. Scott, I am sorry that I must go back to your
private affairs, respecting which you are so unwilling to speak. I fear
I must trouble you to tell me this--How did you raise the money with
which you bought that latter batch--the large lump of the bridge
shares--of which we were speaking?'
'I borrowed it from Mr. Tudor,' said Undy, who had prepared himself to
answer this question glibly.
'You borrowed it from Mr. Alaric Tudor--that is, from the gentleman now
upon his trial. You borrowed it, I believe, just at the time that he
became the lady's trustee?'
'Yes,' said Undy; 'I did so.'
'You have not repaid him as yet?'
'No--not yet,' said Undy.
'I thought not. Can you at all say when Mr. Tudor may probably get his
money?'
'I am not at present prepared to name a day. When the money was lent it
was not intended that it should be repaid at an early day.'
'Oh! Mr. Tudor did not want his money at an early day--didn't he? But,
nevertheless, he has, I believe, asked for it since, and that very
pressingly?'
'He has never asked for it,' said Undy.
'Allow me to remind you, Mr. Scott, that I have the power of putting my
client into that witness-box, although he is on his trial; and, having
so reminded you, let me again beg you to say whether he has not asked
you for repayment of this large sum of money very pressingly.'
'No; he has never done so.'
'By the value of your oath, sir--if it has any value--did not my
client beseech you to allow these shares to be sold while they were yet
saleable, in order that your niece's trust money might be replaced in
the English funds?'
'He said something as to the expediency of selling them, and I differed
from him.'
'You thought it would be better for the lady's interest that they should
remain unsold?'
'I made no question of the lady's interest. I was not her trustee.'
'But the shares were bought with the lady's money.'
'What shares?' asked Undy.
'What shares, sir? Those shares which you had professed to hold on the
lady's behalf, and which afterwards you did not scruple to call your
own. Those shares of yours--since you have the deliberate dishonesty
so to call them--those shares of yours, were they not bought with the
lady's money?'
'They were bought with the money which I borrowed from Mr. Tudor.'
'And where did Mr. Tudor get that money?'
'That is a question you must ask himself,' said Undy.
'It is a question, sir, that just at present I prefer to ask you. Now,
sir, be good enough to tell the jury, whence Mr. Tudor got that money;
or tell them, if you dare do so, that you do not know.'
Undy for a minute remained silent, and Mr. Chaffanbrass remained silent
also. But if the fury of his tongue for a moment was at rest, that of
his eyes was as active as ever. He kept his gaze steadily fixed upon the
witness, and stood there with compressed lips, still resting on his two
hands, as though he were quite satisfied thus to watch the prey that was
in his power. For an instant he glanced up to the jury, and then allowed
his eyes to resettle on the face of the witness, as though he might have
said, 'There, gentlemen, there he is--the son of a peer, a member of
Parliament; what do you think of him?'
The silence of that minute was horrible to Undy, and yet he could hardly
bring himself to break it. The judge looked at him with eyes which
seemed to read his inmost soul; the jury looked at him, condemning him
one and all; Alaric looked at him with fierce, glaring eyes of hatred,
the same eyes that had glared at him that night when he had been
collared in the street; the whole crowd looked at him derisively; but
the eyes of them all were as nothing to the eyes of Mr. Chaffanbrass.
'I never saw him so great; I never did,' said Mr. Gitemthruet,
whispering to his client; and Alaric, even he, felt some consolation in
the terrible discomfiture of his enemy.
'I don't know where he got it,' said Undy, at last breaking the terrible
silence, and wiping the perspiration from his brow.
'Oh, you don't!' said Mr. Chaffanbrass, knocking his wig back, and
coming well out of his kennel. 'After waiting for a quarter of an
hour or so, you are able to tell the jury at last that you don't know
anything about it. He took the small trifle of change out of his pocket,
I suppose?'
'I don't know where he took it from.'
'And you didn't ask?'
'No.'
'You got the money; that was all you know. But this was just at the
time that Mr. Tudor became the lady's trustee; I think you have admitted
that.'
'It may have been about the time.'
'Yes; it may have been about the time, as you justly observe, Mr. Scott.
Luckily, you know, we have the dates of the two transactions. But it
never occurred to your innocent mind that the money which you got into
your hands was a part of the lady's fortune; that never occurred to your
innocent mind--eh, Mr. Scott?'
'I don't know that my mind is a more innocent mind than your own,' said
Undy.
'I dare say not. Well, did the idea ever occur to your guilty mind?'
'Perhaps my mind is not more guilty than your own, either.'
'Then may God help me,' said Mr. Chaffanbrass, 'for I must be at a bad
pass. You told us just now, Mr. Scott, that some time since Mr. Tudor
advised you to sell these shares--what made him give you this advice?'
'He meant, he said, to sell his own.'
'And he pressed you to sell yours?'
'Yes.'
'He urged you to do so more than once?'
'Yes; I believe he did.'
'And now, Mr. Scott, can you explain to the jury why he was so
solicitous that you should dispose of your property?'
'I do not know why he should have done so, unless he wanted back his
money.'
'Then he did ask for his own money?'
'No; he never asked for it. But if I had sold the shares perhaps he
might have asked for it.'
'Oh!' said Mr. Chaffanbrass; and as he uttered the monosyllable he
looked up at the jury, and gently shook his head, and gently shook his
hands. Mr. Chaffanbrass was famous for these little silent addresses to
the jury-box.
But not even yet had he done with this suspicious loan. We cannot follow
him through the whole of his examination; for he kept our old friend
under the harrow for no less than seven hours. Though he himself made no
further statement to the jury, he made it perfectly plain, by Undy's own
extracted admissions, or by the hesitation of his denials, that he had
knowingly received this money out of his niece's fortune, and that he
had refused to sell the shares bought with this money, when pressed to
do so by Tudor, in order that the trust-money might be again made up.
There were those who blamed Mr. Chaffanbrass for thus admitting that his
client had made away with his ward's money by lending it to Undy; but
that acute gentleman saw clearly that he could not contend against the
fact of the property having been fraudulently used; but he saw that he
might induce the jury to attach so much guilt to Undy, that Tudor would,
as it were, be whitened by the blackness of the other's villany. The
judge, he well knew, would blow aside all this froth; but then the judge
could not find the verdict.
Towards the end of the day, when Undy was thoroughly worn out--at which
time, however, Mr. Chaffanbrass was as brisk as ever, for nothing ever
wore him out when he was pursuing his game--when the interest of those
who had been sweltering in the hot court all the day was observed to
flag, Mr. Chaffanbrass began twisting round his finger a bit of paper,
of which those who were best acquainted with his manner knew that he
would soon make use.
'Mr. Scott,' said he, suddenly dropping the derisive sarcasm of his
former tone, and addressing him with all imaginable courtesy, 'could you
oblige me by telling me whose handwriting that is?' and he handed to him
the scrap of paper. Undy took it, and saw that the writing was his own;
his eyes were somewhat dim, and he can hardly be said to have read it.
It was a very short memorandum, and it ran as follows: 'All will yet be
well, if those shares be ready to-morrow morning.'
'Well, Mr. Scott,' said the lawyer, 'do you recognize the handwriting?'
Undy looked at it, and endeavoured to examine it closely, but he could
not; his eyes swam, and his head was giddy, and he felt sick. Could he
have satisfied himself that the writing was not clearly and manifestly
his own, he would have denied the document altogether; but he feared to
do this; the handwriting might be proved to be his own.
'It is something like my own,' said he.
'Something like your own, is it?' said Mr. Chaffanbrass, as though he
were much surprised. 'Like your own! Well, will you have the goodness to
read it?'
Undy turned it in his hand as though the proposed task were singularly
disagreeable to him. Why, thought he to himself, should he be thus
browbeaten by a dirty old Newgate lawyer? Why not pluck up his courage,
and, at any rate, show that he was a man? 'No,' said he, 'I will not
read it.'
'Then I will. Gentlemen of the jury, have the goodness to listen to me.'
Of course there was a contest then between him and the lawyers on the
other side whether the document might or might not be read; but equally
of course the contest ended in the judge's decision that it should be
read. And Mr. Chaffanbrass did read it in a voice audible to all men.
'All will yet be well, if those shares be ready to-morrow morning.' We
may take it as admitted, I suppose, that this is in your handwriting,
Mr. Scott?'
'It probably may be, though I will not say that it is.'
'Do you not know, sir, with positive certainty that it is your writing?'
To this Undy made no direct answer. 'What is your opinion, Mr. Scott?'
said the judge; 'you can probably give an opinion by which the jury
would be much guided.'
'I think it is, my lord,' said Undy.
'He thinks it is, said Mr. Chaffanbrass, addressing the jury. 'Well,
for once I agree with you. I think it is also--and how will you have the
goodness to explain it. To whom was it addressed?'
'I cannot say.'
'When was it written?'
'I do not know.'
'What does it mean?'
'I cannot remember.'
'Was it addressed to Mr. Tudor?'
'I should think not.'
'Now, Mr. Scott, have the goodness to look at the jury, and to speak a
little louder. You are in the habit of addressing a larger audience than
this, and cannot, therefore, be shamefaced. You mean to tell the jury
that you think that that note was not intended by you for Mr. Tudor?'
'I think not,' said Undy.
'But you can't say who it was intended for?'
'No.'
'And by the virtue of your oath, you have told us all that you know
about it?' Undy remained silent, but Mr. Chaffanbrass did not press
him for an answer. 'You have a brother, named Valentine, I think.' Now
Captain Val had been summoned also, and was at this moment in court.
Mr. Chaffanbrass requested that he might be desired to leave it, and,
consequently, he was ordered out in charge of a policeman.
'And now, Mr. Scott--was that note written by you to Mr. Tudor, with
reference to certain shares, which you proposed that Mr. Tudor should
place in your brother's hands? Now, sir, I ask you, as a member of
Parliament, as a member of the Government, as the son of a peer, to give
a true answer to that question.' And then again Undy was silent;
and again Mr. Chaffanbrass leant on the desk and glared at him. 'And
remember, sir, member of Parliament and nobleman as you are, you shall
be indicted for perjury, if you are guilty of perjury.'
'My lord,' said Undy, writhing in torment, 'am I to submit to this?'
'Mr. Chaffanbrass,' said the judge, 'you should not threaten your
witness. Mr. Scott--surely you can answer the question.'
Mr. Chaffanbrass seemed not to have even heard what the judge said, so
intently were his eyes fixed on poor Undy. 'Well, Mr. Scott,' he said at
last, very softly, 'is it convenient for you to answer me? Did that note
refer to a certain number of bridge shares, which you required Mr. Tudor
to hand over to the stepfather of this lady?'
Undy had no trust in his brother. He felt all but sure that, under
the fire of Mr. Chaffanbrass, he would confess everything. It would be
terrible to own the truth, but it would be more terrible to be indicted
for perjury. So he sat silent.
'My lord, perhaps you will ask him,' said Mr. Chaffanbrass.
'Mr. Scott, you understand the question--why do you not answer it?'
asked the judge. But Undy still remained silent.
'You may go now,' said Mr. Chaffanbrass. 'Your eloquence is of the
silent sort; but, nevertheless, it is very impressive. You may go now,
and sit on that bench again, if, after what has passed, the sheriff
thinks proper to permit it.'
Undy, however, did not try that officer's complaisance. He retired
from the witness-box, and was not again seen during the trial in any
conspicuous place in the court.
It was then past seven o'clock; but Mr. Chaffanbrass insisted on going
on with the examination of Captain Val. It did not last long. Captain
Val, also, was in that disagreeable position, that he did not know what
Undy had confessed, and what denied. So he, also, refused to answer
the questions of Mr. Chaffanbrass, saying that he might possibly damage
himself should he do so. This was enough for Mr. Chaffanbrass, and then
his work was done.
At eight o'clock the court again adjourned; again Charley posted
off--for the third time that day--to let Gertrude know that, even
as yet, all was not over; and again he and Alaric spent a melancholy
evening at the neighbouring tavern; and then, again, on the third
morning, all were re-assembled at the Old Bailey.
Or rather they were not all re-assembled. But few came now, and they
were those who were obliged to come. The crack piece of the trial, that
portion to which, among the connoisseurs, the interest was attached,
that was all over. Mr. Chaffanbrass had done his work. Undy Scott,
the member of Parliament, had been gibbeted, and the rest was, in
comparison, stale, flat, and unprofitable. The judge and jury, however,
were there, so were the prosecuting counsel, so were Mr. Chaffanbrass
and Mr. Younglad, and so was poor Alaric. The work of the day was
commenced by the judge's charge, and then Alaric, to his infinite
dismay, found how all the sophistry and laboured arguments of his very
talented advocate were blown to the winds, and shown to be worthless.
'Gentlemen,' said the judge to the jurors, after he had gone through
all the evidence, and told them what was admissible, and what was
not--'gentlemen, I must especially remind you, that in coming to a
verdict in the matter, no amount of guilt on the part of any other
person can render guiltless him whom you are now trying, or palliate his
guilt if he be guilty. An endeavour has been made to affix a deep stigma
on one of the witnesses who has been examined before you; and to induce
you to feel, rather than to think, that Mr. Tudor is, at any rate,
comparatively innocent--innocent as compared with that gentleman. That
is not the issue which you are called on to decide; not whether Mr.
Scott, for purposes of his own, led Mr. Tudor on to guilt, and then
turned against him; but whether Mr. Tudor himself has, or has not, been
guilty under this Act of Parliament that has been explained to you.
'As regards the evidence of Mr. Scott, I am justified in telling you,
that if the prisoner's guilt depended in any way on that evidence, it
would be your duty to receive it with the most extreme caution, and
to reject it altogether if not corroborated. That evidence was not
trustworthy, and in a great measure justified the treatment which the
witness encountered from the learned barrister who examined him. But Mr.
Scott was a witness for the defence, not for the prosecution. The case
for the prosecution in no way hangs on his evidence.
'If it be your opinion that Mr. Tudor is guilty, and that he was
unwarily enticed into guilt by Mr. Scott; that the whole arrangement of
this trust was brought about by Mr. Scott or others, to enable him or
them to make a cat's-paw of this new trustee, and thus use the lady's
money for their own purposes, such an opinion on your part may justify
you in recommending the prisoner to the merciful consideration of the
bench; but it cannot justify you in finding a verdict of not guilty.'
As Alaric heard this, and much more to the same effect, his hopes, which
certainly had been high during the examination of Undy Scott, again sank
to zero, and left him in despair. He had almost begun to doubt the fact
of his own guilt, so wondrously had his conduct been glossed over by
Mr. Chaffanbrass, so strikingly had any good attempt on his part been
brought to the light, so black had Scott been made to appear. Ideas
floated across his brain that he might go forth, not only free of the
law, but whitewashed also in men's opinions, that he might again sit on
his throne at the Civil Service Board, again cry to himself 'Excelsior,'
and indulge the old dreams of his ambition.
But, alas! the deliberate and well-poised wisdom of the judge seemed to
shower down cold truth upon the jury from his very eyes. His words
were low in their tone, though very clear, impassive, delivered without
gesticulation or artifice, such as that so powerfully used by Mr.
Chaffanbrass; but Alaric himself felt that it was impossible to doubt
the truth of such a man; impossible to suppose that any juryman should
do so. Ah me! why had he brought himself thus to quail beneath the gaze
of an old man seated on a bench? with what object had he forced himself
to bend his once proud neck? He had been before in courts such as this,
and had mocked within his own spirit the paraphernalia of the horsehair
wigs, the judges' faded finery, and the red cloth; he had laughed at
the musty, stale solemnity by which miscreants were awed, and policemen
enchanted; now, these things told on himself heavily enough; he felt now
their weight and import.
And then the jury retired from the court to consider their verdict, and
Mr. Gitemthruet predicted that they would be hungry enough before they
sat down to their next meal. 'His lordship was dead against us,' said
Mr. Gitemthruet; 'but that was a matter of course; we must look to the
jury, and the city juries are very fond of Mr. Chaffanbrass; I am not
quite sure, however, that Mr. Chaffanbrass was right: I would not have
admitted so much myself; but then no one knows a city jury so well as
Mr. Chaffanbrass.'
Other causes came on, and still the jury did not return to court. Mr.
Chaffanbrass seemed to have forgotten the very existence of Alaric
Tudor, and was deeply engaged in vindicating a city butcher from
an imputation of having vended a dead ass by way of veal. All his
indignation was now forgotten, and he was full of boisterous fun,
filling the court with peals of laughter. One o'clock came, two, three,
four, five, six, seven, and still no verdict. At the latter hour, when
the court was about to be adjourned, the foreman came in, and assured
the judge that there was no probability that they could agree; eleven of
them thought one way, while the twelfth was opposed to them. 'You must
reason with the gentleman,' said the judge. 'I have, my lord,' said the
foreman, 'but it's all thrown away upon him.' 'Reason with him again,'
said the judge, rising from his bench and preparing to go to his dinner.
And then one of the great fundamental supports of the British
constitution was brought into play. Reason was thrown away upon this
tough juryman, and, therefore, it was necessary to ascertain what effect
starvation might have upon him. A verdict, that is, a unanimous decision
from these twelve men as to Alaric's guilt, was necessary; it might be
that three would think him innocent, and nine guilty, or that any other
division of opinion might take place; but such divisions among a jury
are opposed to the spirit of the British constitution. Twelve men must
think alike; or, if they will not, they must be made to do so. 'Reason
with him again,' said the judge, as he went to his own dinner. Had the
judge bade them remind him how hungry he would soon be if he remained
obstinate, his lordship would probably have expressed the thought which
was passing through his mind. 'There is one of us, my lord,' said the
foreman, 'who will I know be very ill before long; he is already so bad
that he can't sit upright.'
There are many ludicrous points in our blessed constitution, but perhaps
nothing so ludicrous as a juryman praying to a judge for mercy. He has
been caught, shut up in a box, perhaps, for five or six days together,
badgered with half a dozen lawyers till he is nearly deaf with their
continual talking, and then he is locked up until he shall die or find a
verdict. Such at least is the intention of the constitution. The death,
however, of three or four jurymen from starvation would not suit the
humanity of the present age, and therefore, when extremities are nigh
at hand, the dying jurymen, with medical certificates, are allowed to
be carried off. It is devoutly to be wished that one juryman might be
starved to death while thus serving the constitution; the absurdity then
would cure itself, and a verdict of a majority would be taken.
But in Alaric's case, reason or hunger did prevail at the last moment,
and as the judge was leaving the court, he was called back to
receive the verdict. Alaric, also, was brought back, still under Mr.
Gitemthruet's wing, and with him came Charley. A few officers of
the court were there, a jailer and a policeman or two, those whose
attendance was absolutely necessary, but with these exceptions the place
was empty. Not long since men were crowding for seats, and the policemen
were hardly able to restrain the pressure of those who pushed forward;
but now there was no pushing; the dingy, dirty benches, a few inches of
which had lately been so desirable, were not at all in request, and were
anything but inviting in appearance; Alaric sat himself down on the
very spot which had lately been sacred to Mr. Chaffanbrass, and Mr.
Gitemthruet, seated above him, might also fancy himself a barrister.
There they sat for five minutes in perfect silence; the suspense of the
moment cowed even the attorney, and Charley, who sat on the other side
of Alaric, was so affected that he could hardly have spoken had he
wished to do so.
And then the judge, who had been obliged to re-array himself before he
returned to the bench, again took his seat, and an officer of the court
inquired of the foreman of the jury, in his usual official language,
what their finding was.
'Guilty on the third count,' said the foreman. 'Not guilty on the four
others. We beg, however, most strongly to recommend the prisoner to your
lordship's merciful consideration, believing that he has been led into
this crime by one who has been much more guilty than himself.'
'I knew Mr. Chaffanbrass was wrong,' said Mr. Gitemthruet. 'I knew he
was wrong when he acknowledged so much. God bless my soul! in a court of
law one should never acknowledge anything! what's the use?'
And then came the sentence. He was to be confined at the Penitentiary
at Millbank for six months. 'The offence,' said the judge, 'of which
you have been found guilty, and of which you most certainly have been
guilty, is one most prejudicial to the interests of the community. That
trust which the weaker of mankind should place in the stronger, that
reliance which widows and orphans should feel in their nearest and
dearest friends, would be destroyed, if such crimes as these were
allowed to pass unpunished. But in your case there are circumstances
which do doubtless palliate the crime of which you have been guilty; the
money which you took will, I believe, be restored; the trust which you
were courted to undertake should not have been imposed on you; and in
the tale of villany which has been laid before us, you have by no
means been the worst offender. I have, therefore, inflicted on you the
slightest penalty which the law allows me. Mr. Tudor, I know what
has been your career, how great your services to your country, how
unexceptionable your conduct as a public servant; I trust, I do trust, I
most earnestly, most hopefully trust, that your career of utility is not
over. Your abilities are great, and you are blessed with the power
of thinking; I do beseech you to consider, while you undergo that
confinement which you needs must suffer, how little any wealth is worth
an uneasy conscience.'
And so the trial was over. Alaric was taken off in custody; the
policeman in mufti was released from his attendance; and Charley, with a
heavy heart, carried the news to Gertrude and Mrs. Woodward.
'And as for me,' said Gertrude, when she had so far recovered from the
first shock as to be able to talk to her mother--'as for me, I will have
lodgings at Millbank.'