In less than six months from the date of my interview with the Lincoln's
Inn lawyer, there occurred in the London courts a trial of more than
usual interest.
It was a case of contested will--no very uncommon thing. But in that to
which I refer, there were circumstances of a peculiar, I might say very
peculiar, kind. These, with the position of the parties concerned,
rendered the suit worthy of being placed among the records of _causes
celebres_.
It was the case of "Harding _versus_ Harding;" the defendant being Nigel
Harding, Esq, of Beechwood Park, Buckinghamshire; the plaintiff, a Mr
Henry Harding, who claimed to be his half-brother.
The matter in dispute was an estate, valued at one hundred thousand
pounds, of which defendant was in possession. He held it by a will--
that of General Harding, his father, and former owner of the property--
made some twelve months before the General's death, and at the same time
duly signed and attested.
It had been drawn up by a country attorney, named Woolet; and signed by
himself and his clerk, acting as witnesses to the testator.
It gave the whole of General Harding's estate to his elder son, Nigel,
with the exception of one thousand pounds, to his other and younger son,
Henry, and an annuity of two hundred to the General's sister.
So far the document seemed quite correct--except in the strangeness of
the unequal distribution. But there were reasons for this; and no one
disputed the genuineness of the instrument. The question was one of an
alleged later testament; which, if also proved genuine, would have the
effect of setting aside Woolet's will, by a complete change of terms.
By the second will, the estate was bestowed on the younger son, and the
one thousand pounds given to the elder!
The strange transposal was, however, coupled with a condition also
strange. It appeared, by the citing of the second will, that the
younger brother was abroad when it was made, and not only abroad, but
supposed to be dead.
A doubt of his death must have been in the testator's mind, leading him
to insert the condition: which was to the effect, that in the event of
his younger son's return he was to enter upon quiet possession of the
property--all of it, excepting the aforesaid legacy of one thousand
pounds!
He had returned; at least, so alleged the plaintiff, who claimed to be
Henry Harding, the legatee of the second will.
But he was not admitted into "quiet possession," according to the words
of the will. On the contrary the case was going to be contested with
all the legal strength and strategy that on both aides could be brought
to bear upon it.
On the part of the defence, there was no attempt to disprove the
genuineness of the second will. It had been made by a lawyer of the
highest respectability, who was ready to prove it.
The point turned upon the question of identity; the defendant denying
that the plaintiff was his half-brother, or in any way entitled to
relationship.
There was no proof that Henry Harding was dead--only the presumption;
and to strengthen this, the defendant's counsel--imprudently, as it
afterwards turned out--exhibited certain letters written by the real
Henry Harding as he called him--showing that he had been captive to a
band of Italian brigands, who threatened to take his life, unless a
ransom should be paid for him.
It was proved that this ransom was _not_ paid; that it had been sent;
but, as the defence alleged, too late. The plaintiff's own witnesses
were compelled to testify to this.
The presumption, therefore, was that the bandits, speaking through their
chief, Corvino, had carried out their threat.
This was the impression produced upon "twelve men, good and true," after
an eloquent speech made by an eminent counsel, to whom the defendant's
solicitors had entrusted the conduct of their case.
On the plaintiff's side, a story had been told that appeared altogether
incredible. It was preposterous to suppose--as thought twelve English
tradesmen--that the son of an English gentleman of wealth and standing
should voluntarily take to the profession of painting pictures, and
afterwards exile himself to such a country as South America: there to
stay, forgetting his fine estate at home, till the merest accident gave
him cause to remember it! They could have believed in such
self-banishment in one of their own sons; but the son of a general, a
county squire, the owner of a large landed estate--the thing was not to
be credited!
They could give credence to the brigand part of the tale, though that
too seemed queer to them. But the story of the self-exile--leaving an
estate unclaimed! The plaintiff's counsel might tell that to the
marines!
So stood the case, after several days spent in the questioning and
cross-questioning of witnesses, and the trial was approaching its
termination.
All the testimony which the plaintiff's counsel could produce was not
sufficient to establish his identity. It could not convince a British
jury, that the sun-embrowned and bearded young man, set forth as the
claimant of Beechwood Park, was the son of its former proprietor; while
the pale, silent gentleman, who now held possession of it, undoubtedly
was.
Possession has been said to be nine points of the law. Coupled with
wealth, it is generally so in the eyes of legal gentlemen, and often of
juries.
The plaintiffs case appeared hopeless. Notwithstanding all that is
known to the reader, it trembled on the edge of being decreed an attempt
at usurpation, and he himself declared an attempted usurper and
defrauder.
The trial had reached this crisis, and was expected soon to terminate.
But before the end came, the plaintiff's counsel begged leave to call a
witness, one who had already stood upon the stand, but on the side of
the defendant. Then, he had been a witness against his own will--having
to give testimony that seemed favourable to the plaintiff's opponent.
The witness was Mr Lawson, of the firm of Lawson and Son, solicitors,
of Lincoln's Inn. It was the senior partner, Mr Lawson himself, who
was called. As he took his place in the box, there was a twinkle in the
old lawyer's eye; that, although comical, seemed to have meaning of
mischief in it. The "twelve good men and true" could not guess at what
it meant, though they understood it before the examining counsel had
done with him.
"You say General Harding received another letter from Italy?" questioned
the latter, after Lawson senior had kissed the Book, and been put
through the usual preliminaries of examination.
"I do."
"I don't mean either of those already submitted to the jury. The letter
I refer to is one written, not by his son, but by the bandit chief,
Corvino. Did General Harding receive such a letter?"
"He did."
"You can prove that?"
"I can prove it; from his having told me he did, and placed it in my
hands for safe keeping."
"When did this occur?"
"Shortly before the General's death. In fact, on the same day he made
the will."
"Which will?"
"The one under which the plaintiff claims."
"You mean that was the date when he placed the letter in your hands?"
"Yes."
"Can you tell when the General received it?"
"I can. The postmark will show that: as also whence it came."
"Can you produce this letter?"
"It is here."
The witness took an epistle out of his pocket, and handed it to the
examining counsel; who, in turn, passed it up to the judge.
It was a dingy-looking document, blotched over with postmarks, stained
by travel, and a good deal embrowned by being kept several years in the
atmosphere of a London law-office.
"My Lord," said the plaintiff's counsel, "I have to request that that
letter be read to the gentlemen of the jury."
"Certainly, let it be read," was the response of his Lordship.
It was read. It was the letter which the chief Corvino had addressed to
the father of his captive, conveying the terrible threat and still more
fearful enclosure.