AT THE OLD BAILEY IN THE OLD TIMES.
It is a vast space to look back over sixty years of labour, and yet
there seems hardly a scene or an event of any consequence, that is not
reproduced in my mind with a vividness that astonishes me.
In my earlier visits to her Majesty's Courts of Justice my principal
business was to study the Queen's Counsel and Serjeants, and they
were worthy the attention I bestowed on them. They all belonged to
different schools of advocacy, and some knew very little about it.
I went to the Old Bailey, a den of infamy in those times not
conceivable now, and I verily believe that no future time will produce
its like--at least I hope not. Its associations were enough to
strike a chill of horror into you. It was the very cesspool for the
offscourings of humanity. I had no taste for criminal practice in
those days, except as a means of learning the art of advocacy. In
these cases, presided over by a judge who knows his work, the rules of
evidence are strictly observed, and you will learn more in six months
of practical advocacy than in ten years elsewhere. The Criminal Court
was the best school in which to learn your work of cross-examination
and examination-in-chief, while the Courts of Equity were probably the
worst. But I shall not dwell on my struggles in connection with
the Old Bailey at that early period of my life. What will be more
interesting, perhaps, are some curious arrangements which they had for
the conduct of business and the entertainment of the Judges.
These are a too much neglected part of our history, and when referred
to in reminiscences are generally referred to as matters for
jocularity. They exercised, however, a serious influence on the minds
and feelings of the people, as well as their manners; more so than a
hundred subjects with which the historian or the novelist sometimes
deals.
In all cases of unusual gravity three Judges sat together. Offences
that would now be treated as not even deserving of a day's
imprisonment in many cases were then invariably punished with death.
It was not, therefore, so much the nature of the offence as the
importance of it in the eyes of the Judges that caused three of them
to sit together and try the criminals.
They sat till five o'clock right through, and then went to a sumptuous
dinner provided by the Lord Mayor and Aldermen. They drank everybody's
health but their own, thoroughly relieved their minds from the horrors
of the court, and, having indulged in much festive wit, sometimes at
an alderman's expense, and often at their own, returned into court
in solemn procession, their gravity undisturbed by anything that had
previously taken place, and looking the picture of contentment and
virtue.
Another dinner was provided by the Sheriffs; this was for the
Recorder, Common Serjeant, and others, who took their seats when their
lordships had arisen.
I ought to mention one important dignitary--namely, the chaplain of
Newgate--whose fortunate position gave him the advantage over most
persons: for he _dined at both these dinners_, and assisted in the
circulation of the wit from one party to another; so that what my
Lord Chief Justice had made the table roar with at five o'clock, the
Recorder and the Common Serjeant roared with at six, and were able to
retail at their family tables at a later period of the evening. It was
in that way so many good things have come down to the present day.
The reverend gentleman alluded to of course attended the court in
robes, and his only, but solemn, function was to say "Amen" when the
sentence of death was pronounced by the Judge.
There were curious old stories, too, about my lords and old port at
that time which are not of my own reminiscences, and therefore I shall
do no more than mention them in order to pass on to what I heard and
saw myself.
The first thing that struck me in the after-dinner trials was the
extreme rapidity with which the proceedings were conducted. As judges
and counsel were exhilarated, the business was proportionately
accelerated. But of all the men I had the pleasure of meeting on
these occasions, the one who gave me the best idea of rapidity in an
after-dinner case was Mirehouse.
Let me illustrate it by a trial which I heard. Jones was the name of
the prisoner. His offence was that of picking pockets, entailing, of
course, a punishment corresponding in severity with the barbarity of
the times. It was not a plea of "Guilty," when perhaps a little more
inquiry might have been necessary; it was a case in which the prisoner
solemnly declared he was "Not Guilty," and therefore had a right to be
tried.
The accused having "held up his hand," and the jury having solemnly
sworn to hearken to the evidence, and "to well and truly try, and true
deliverance make," etc., the witness for the prosecution climbs into
the box, which was like a pulpit, and before he has time to look round
and see where the voice comes from, he is examined as follows by the
prosecuting counsel:--
"I think you were walking up Ludgate Hill on Thursday, 25th, about
half-past two in the afternoon, and suddenly felt a tug at your pocket
and missed your handkerchief, which the constable now produces. Is
that it?"
"Yes, sir."
"I suppose you have nothing to ask him?" says the judge. "Next
witness."
Constable stands up.
"Were you following the prosecutor on the occasion when he was robbed
on Ludgate Hill? and did you see the prisoner put his hand into the
prosecutor's pocket and take this handkerchief out of it?"
"Yes, sir."
Judge to prisoner: "Nothing to say, I suppose?" Then to the jury:
"Gentlemen, I suppose you have no doubt? I have none."
Jury: "Guilty, my lord," as though to oblige his lordship.
Judge to prisoner: "Jones, we have met before--we shall not meet again
for some time--seven years' transportation. Next case."
Time: two minutes fifty-three seconds.
Perhaps this case was a high example of expedition, because it was not
always that a learned counsel could put his questions so neatly; but
it may be taken that these after-dinner trials did not occupy on the
average more than _four minutes_ each.