AN EXPERT IN HANDWRITING--"DO YOU KNOW JOE BROWN?"
I always took great interest in the class of expert who professed to
identify handwriting. Experts of all classes give evidence only as to
opinion; nevertheless, those who decide upon handwriting believe
in their infallibility. Cross-examination can never shake their
confidence. Some will pin their faith even to the crossing of a T,
"the perpendicularity, my lord," of a down-stroke, or the "obliquity"
of an upstroke.
Mr. Nethercliffe, one of the greatest in his profession, and a
thorough believer in all he said, had been often cross-examined by
me, and we understood each other very well. I sometimes indulged in a
little chaff at his expense; indeed, I generally had a little "fling"
at him when he was in the box.
It is remarkable that, at the time I speak of, Judges, as a rule, had
wonderful confidence in this class of expert, and never seemed to
think of forming any opinion of their own. A witness swore to certain
peculiarities; the Judge looked at them and at once saw them, too
often without considering that peculiarities are exactly the things
that forgers imitate.
"You find the same peculiarity here, my lord, and the same peculiarity
there, my lord; consequently I say it is the same handwriting."
In days long gone by the eminent expert in this science had a great
reputation. As I often met him, I knew _his_ peculiarities, and how
annoyed he was if the correctness of his opinion was in the least
doubted.
He had a son of whom he was deservedly proud, and he and his son, in
cases of importance, were often employed on opposite sides to support
or deny the genuineness of a questioned handwriting. On one occasion,
in the Queen's Bench, a libel was charged against a defendant which he
positively denied ever to have written.
I appeared for the defendant, and Mr. Nethercliffe was called as a
witness for the plaintiff.
When I rose to cross-examine I handed to the expert six slips of
paper, each of which was written in a different kind of handwriting.
Nethercliffe took out his large pair of spectacles--magnifiers--which
he always carried, and began to polish them with a great deal of care,
saying,--
"I see, Mr. Hawkins, what you are going to try to do--you want to put
me in a hole."
"I do, Mr. Nethercliffe; and if you are ready for the hole, tell
me--were those six pieces of paper written by one hand at about the
same time?"
He examined them carefully, and after a considerable time answered:
"No; they were written at different times and by different hands!"
"By different persons, do you say?"
"Yes, certainly!"
"Now, Mr. Nethercliffe, you are in the hole! I wrote them myself this
morning at this desk."
He was a good deal disconcerted, not to say very angry, and I then
began to ask him about his son.
"You educated your son to your own profession, I believe, Mr.
Nethercliffe?"
"I did, sir; I hope there was no harm in that, Mr. Hawkins."
"Not in the least; it is a lucrative profession. Was he a diligent
student?"
"He was."
"And became as good an expert as his father, I hope?"
"Even better, I should say, if possible."
"I think you profess to be infallible, do you not?"
"That is true, Mr. Hawkins, though I say it."
"And your son, who, as you say, is even better than yourself, is he as
infallible as you?"
"Certainly, he ought to be. Why not?"
Then I put this question; "Have you and your son been sometimes
employed on opposite sides in a case?"
"That is hardly a fair question, Mr. Hawkins."
"Let me give you an instance: In Lady D----'s case, which has recently
been tried, did not your son swear one way and you another?"
He did not deny it, whereupon I added: "It seems strange that two
infallibles should contradict one another?"
The case was at an end.
* * * * *
One evening, after a good hard day's work, I was sitting in my
easy-chair after dinner, comfortably enjoying myself, when a man, who
was quite a respectable working man, came in. I had known him for a
considerable time.
"What's the matter, Jenkins?" I inquired, seeing he was somewhat
troubled.
"Well, Mr. Hawkins, it's a terrible job, this 'ere. I wants you to
appear for me."
"Where?" I inquired.
"At Bow Street, Mr. Hawkins."
"Bow Street! What have you been doing, Jenkins?"
"Why, nothing, sir; but it's a put-up job. You knows my James, I
dessay. Well, sir, that there boy, my son James, have been brought up,
I might say, on the Church Catechism."
"There's not much in that," I said, meaning nothing they could take
him to Bow Street for. "Is that the charge against him?"
"No, sir; but from a babby, sir, his poor mother have brought that
there boy up to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth. And it's a curious thing, Mr. Hawkins--a very curious thing,
sir--that arter all his poor mother's care and James's desire to speak
the truth, they've gone and charged that there boy with perjury! 'At
all times,' says his mother, 'James, speak the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth;' and this is what it's come to--would
anybody believe it, sir? _Could_ anybody believe it? It's enough to
make anybody disbelieve in Christianity. And what's more, sir, that
there boy was so eager at all times to tell the whole truth that, to
make quite sure he told it all, he'd go a little beyond on the other
side, sir--he would, indeed."
When he heard my fee was a hundred guineas to appear at the police
court, I heard no more of truthful James.
* * * * *
In dealing with a case where there is really no substantial defence,
it is sometimes necessary to throw a little ridicule over the
proceedings, taking care, first, to see what is the humour of the
jury. I remember trying this with great success, and reducing a
verdict which might have been considerable to a comparatively trifling
amount.
[In illustration of this Mr. Cecil A. Coward has given an incident
that occurred in an action for slander tried at the Guildhall many
years ago, in which Mr. Hawkins, Q.C., was for the defendant, and Mr.
Joseph Brown, Q.C., for the plaintiff. The slander consisted in the
defendant pointing his thumb over his shoulder and asking another man,
"Do you know him? That's Joe Smith."
Mr. Joseph Brown, Q.C., had to rely upon his innuendo--"meaning
thereby Joe Smith was a rogue"--and was very eloquent as to slander
unspoken but expressed by signs and tone. After an exhausting speech
he sat down and buried his head in his bandana, as his habit was.
Hawkins got up, and turned Mr. Joseph Brown's speech to ridicule in
two or three sentences.
"Gentlemen," he almost whispered, after a very small whistle which
nobody could hear but those close around, at the same time pointing
his thumb over his shoulder at his opponent, "do you know him--do you
know Joe Brown?" There was a roar of laughter. Joe looked up, saw
nothing, and retired again into his bandana.
Again the performance was gone through. "Do you know Joe Brown, the
best fellow in the world?"
Brown looked up again, and was just in time to hear the jury say
they had heard quite enough of the case. No slander--verdict for the
defendant.
It was one of the best pieces of acting I ever saw him do.]