SEVERAL SCENES.
I think I have said that I had a favourite motto, which was, "Never
fret." It has often stood me in good stead and helped me to obey it.
I was once put to it, however, on my way to open the Commission at
Bangor on the Welsh Circuit. The Assizes were to commence on the
following day. It was a very glorious afternoon, and one to make you
wish that no Assize might ever be held again.
I had engaged to dine with the High Sheriff, who lived three or four
miles away from the town, in a very beautiful part of the country; so
there was everything to make one glad, except the Assizes. Added to
all this pleasurable excitement, the Chester Cup was to be run for in
the meanwhile, and I had many old friends who I knew would be there,
and whom I should have been glad to meet had it been possible.
The Sheriff had made most elaborate calculations from his Bradshaw and
other sources as to the times of departure and arrival by train. I did
not know what to do, so arranged with the stationmaster at Chester to
shunt my carriage till the afternoon, having no doubt I should be able
to fulfil my engagements easily.
It so happened, however, that the racing arrangements of the railway
had been completely disturbed by the great crowds of visitors, and the
result was that I did not reach Carnarvon at the proper time, and my
arrival in that place was delayed for nearly an hour.
Nevertheless, I opened the Commission, and the High Sheriff asked me
if I would allow him to go on to his house to receive his guests, whom
he had invited to meet me, and permit the chaplain to escort me in the
performance of my duties.
Having dressed in full uniform, I got into the carriage with the
chaplain, who was quite a lively companion, of an enterprising turn of
mind, and desirous of learning something of the world. I could have
taught him a good deal, I have no doubt, had I allowed myself to be
drawn. My friend had no great conversational powers, but was possessed
of an inquiring mind. After we had ridden a little way, to my great
amusement he asked me if I had any favourite _motto_ that I could tell
him, so that he might keep it in his memory.
"Yes," said I, "I have a very good one," and cheerfully said, "Never
fret."
This, when I explained it to him, especially with reference to my
business arrangements, seemed to please him very much. It was as good
as saying, "Don't fret because you can't preach two sermons from two
pulpits at the same time."
He asked if he might write it down in his pocket-book, and I told him
by all means, and hoped he would.
"Excellent!" he murmured as he wrote it: "Never fret."
He then asked modestly if I could give him any other pithy saying
which would be worthy of remembrance.
"Yes," said I, thinking a little, "I recollect one very good thing
which you will do well to remember: Never say anything you think will
be disagreeable to other persons."
He expressed great admiration for this, as it sounded so original, and
was particularly adapted to the clergy.
"Oh," said he, "that's in the real spirit of Christianity."
"Is that so?" I asked, as he wrote it down in his book; and he seemed
to admire it exceedingly after he had written it, even more than the
other.
Then he said he really did not like to trouble me, but it was the
first time he had had the honour of occupying the position of
Sheriff's chaplain, etc.; but might he trouble me for another motto,
or something that might go as a kind of companion to the others in his
pocket-book?
This a little puzzled me, but I felt that he took me now for a sage,
and that my reputation as such was at stake. I had nothing in stock,
but wondered if it would be possible to make one for him while he
waited.
"Yes," said I, "with the greatest displeasure: Never do anything which
you feel will be disagreeable to yourself."
"My lord!" he cried in the greatest glee, "that is by far the best of
all; that must go down in my book, it is so practical, and of everyday
use."
I was, of course, equally delighted to afford so young a man so much
instruction, and thought what a thing it is to be young. However, here
was an opportunity not to be lost of showing him how to put to the
practical test of experience two at least, if not all three, of the
little aphorisms, and I said so.
"I should be delighted, my lord, to put your advice into practice at
the earliest opportunity," he answered.
"That will be on Sunday," said I, "at twelve o'clock. Don't preach a
long sermon!"
In due time we arrived at the Sheriff's house, and there found all the
guests assembled and waiting to meet me. I was quite quick enough to
perceive at a glance that they had been planning some scheme to entrap
me--at all events, to cause me embarrassment. The ladies were in it,
for they all smiled, and said as plainly by their looks as possible,
"We shall have you nicely, Judge, depend upon it, by-and-by."
The Sheriff was the chief spokesman. No sooner had we sat down to
table than he addressed me in a most unaffected manner, as if the
question were quite in the ordinary course, and had not been planned.
I answered it in the same spirit.
"My lord, could you kindly tell us which horse has won the Cup?"
evidently thinking that I had been to the course.
There was a dead silence at this crucial question--a silence that
you could feel was the result of a deep-laid conspiracy--and all the
ladies smiled.
Fortunately I was not caught; nor was I even taken aback; my presence
of mind did not desert me in this my hour of need; and I said, in the
most natural tone I could assume,--
"Yes, I was sure that would be the first question you would ask me
when I had the pleasure of meeting this brilliant company, as you knew
I must pass through Chester Station; so I popped my head out of the
window and asked the porter which horse had won. He told me the Judge
had won by a length, Chaplain was a good second, and Sheriff a bad
third."
The squire took his defeat like a man.
I was reminded during the evening of a singular case of bigamy--a
double bigamy--that came before me at Derby, in which the simple story
was that an unfortunate couple had got married twenty years before the
time I speak of, and that they had the good luck to find out they did
not care for one another the week after they were married. It would
have been luckier if they had found it out a week before instead of
a week after; but so it was, and in the circumstances they did the
wisest thing, probably, that they could. They separated, and never met
again until they met in the dock before me--a trysting-place not of
their own choosing, and more strange than a novelist would dream of.
But there they were, and this was the story of their lives:--
The man, after the separation, lived for some time single, then formed
a companionship, and, as he afterwards heard that his wife had got
married to some one else, thought he would follow her example.
Now, if a Judge punished immorality, here was something to punish; but
the law leaves that to the ecclesiastical or some other jurisdiction.
The Judge has but to deal with the breach of the law, and to punish in
accordance with the requirements of the injury to society--not even to
the injury of the individual.
I made inquiries of the police and others, as the prisoners had
pleaded guilty, and found that all the parties--the four persons--had
been living respectable and hard-working lives. There was no fault
whatever to be found with their conduct. They were respected by all
who knew them.
I then asked how it was found out at last that these people, living
quietly and happily, had been previously married.
"O my lord," said a policeman, "there was a hinquest on a babby, which
was the female prisoner's babby and what had died. Then it come out
afore Mr. Coroner, my lord, and he ordered the woman into custody, and
then the man was took."
I thought they had had punishment enough for their offence, and gave
them no imprisonment, but ordered them to be released on their own
recognizances, and to come up for judgment if called upon.
Now came _my_ sentence. The clergyman of the parish in which this
terrible crime had been discovered evidently felt that he had been
living in the utmost danger for years. Here these people came to his
church, and for aught he knew prayed for forgiveness under the very
roof where he himself worshipped.
He said I had done a fine thing to encourage sin and immorality, and
what could come of humanity if Judges would not punish?
He denounced me, I afterwards learned, in his pulpit in the severest
terms, although I did not hear that he used the same vituperative
language towards the poor creatures I had so far absolved. Luckily I
was not attending the reverend gentleman's ministration, but he seemed
to think the greatest crime I had committed was disallowing the costs
of the prosecution. That was a direct _incentive to bigamy_, although
in what respect I never learned.
It sometimes suggested to my mind this question,--
What would this minister of the gospel have said to the Divine Master
when the woman caught "in the very act" was before Him, and He said,
in words never to be forgotten till men and women are no more,
"Neither do I condemn thee"?
I thought those who loved a prosecution of this kind--whoever it may
have been--_ought_ to pay for the luxury, and so I condemned _them_ in
the costs.