A stranger is left to speculate how far such views may reflect some past grudge and he will probably come to the conclusion that the high standing of the English judiciary, in the opinion of all the world, is fully deserved, but that there are some few exceptions to this general excellence.
Costs play an important part in all English litigation. The tendency since the time of the Stuarts has been constantly to increase them. By costs—as understood in England—is not meant the official fees payable to the court officers, but a sum which the unsuccessful party is condemned to pay to the successful party, the aimbeing to indemnify the side whom the event proves to have been in the right. If a litigant has incurred expense to obtain a judgment for a sum of money, then he must be reimbursed by the other side who occasioned his outlay by refusal to pay. On the other hand, if an unjust claim has been made against him, the claimant must repay his expenses in resisting it.
Part of these costs are taxed as the case proceeds. Thus, if one party summon another before a Master prior to trial, to obtain an order for the production of some document, the Master imposes costs—say £2. 10s. 0d.—upon the party who refused to produce, or upon the party who, the Master finds, has unwarrantably demanded the production. The theory here is to discourage unnecessary and harassing interlocutory proceedings.
But the principal costs "await the event"—follow the course of the final judgment. They include an allowance for counsel fees, which, however, is not always as much as the amount paid by the litigants. For, if a litigant has indulged in the luxury of an unusual array of counsel, he must do so at his own expense, and the Master allows only what he should have laid out in fees. Thus, in a petty action, caused by somepersonal pique, the plaintiff may have insisted that his solicitor retain a K. C. at fifty guineas and a junior at thirty-five guineas, involving a total expense, with three guineas for the consultation, of eighty-eight guineas. The defendant, however, has been content with a junior at "3 & 1." If the plaintiff succeeds, the Master will not allow him the eighty-eight guineas, but will decide that the more modest armament of the defendant would have been sufficient.
Costs are, upon the whole, very high. In an ordinary action to recover a moderate sum—say £200—the costs will generally amount to £50. In a recent action to recover £60, the balance of the purchase price of a motor car, costs were claimed of over £400, and actually allowed in a sum over £200. Though this was exceptional, owing to the unreasonable stubbornness with which a just claim was resisted, and is by no means typical, yet it illustrates the possibilities of the system.
In theory it seems reasonable that the party in the wrong should reimburse the party in the right for having vexatiously put him to expense in obtaining his due. In practice, however, the prospect of large costs may stimulate unjust suits by impecunious plaintiffs—unable themselvesto respond in costs if defeated—against richer defendants vulnerable for whatever the chances of war may have in store for them. To this criticism English lawyers can only answer that if the plaintiff is unable to give security for costs, he may, in actions of tort, at least, be remitted to the County Courts, where the costs are much lighter. This, however, is merely a mitigation of the evil.
The general opinion seems to be that high costs discourage litigation. This may be true, but if they tend as well to obstruct the assertion of just rights and to stimulate fictitious claims, they are not to be desired by the profession or by the laity.
A jury trial strikes one as more cut and dried in an English than in an American court. Apparently, through the exchange of documents and otherwise, so much is known to the opposing counsel, solicitors and judge, that the element of surprise is largely eliminated. If all the litigants were honest, and the law were an exact science, this might conduce to a deliberate consideration of the questions involved. But what American advocate, having confronted a disingenuous witness with his own letter, utterly at variance with his testimony, could say that the cause of justice would have been better served if the witness had known that the letter was to be produced and had had the chance to regulate his evidence accordingly?
A Jury TrialA Jury Trial
And what American lawyer would not feel that half the fun of life were gone?
During the examination of witnesses, notwithstanding the rapidity of articulation, an American ear is struck by a certain lack of snap and by the great deliberation and long intervals between questions, which afford—especially for a dishonest witness under cross-examination—too much time for reflection. This impression may be due to differences in national temperament, and the examination may seem even rapid to an English listener. Perhaps the chief cause of the hesitancy is the fact that the examiner has obtained his information at second hand, from his client the solicitor, or his junior or devil, and has to feel his way. A kind of confidence in the veracity of witnesses appears to pervade the court; and they are, indeed, as a rule, uncommonly frank.
English barristers do not know their cases as well as American lawyers. They have not conducted the preliminaries, nor become acquainted with and advised the parties they are to represent; in other words, they have not "grown up with the case," and the facts are more like abstract propositions lately placed in their hands tobe presented. It is not unusual during the trial, when some unexpected situation arises, to see evidence of a lack of familiarity with the circumstances which requires instant reference to the solicitor.
The judges take a larger part in trials than in most American courts—a practice which has much to commend it, and which is increasing on this side of the water. An American lawyer will say, "I tried a case before Judge So-and-so"—an English barrister says: "I conducted a case which Lord So-and-so tried." The English judge restrains counsel, often examines the witnesses, and his influence is quite openly exerted to guide the jury and cause them to avoid absurdities and extremes. Yet, the crucial questions of fact really to be determined—of which there are usually but one or two—are left absolutely to the jury's unfettered decision.
Objections to questions by opposing counsel, which cut so large a figure in an American trial, are rarely made. One is told that the barristers know the rules of evidence too well to ask improper questions and that they have too much respect for the court to hazard a rebuke. This is a very pretty, but hardly a satisfactory, explanation. Observation of many trials gives the impression,rather, that great laxity prevails as to what is a proper question and that the party aggrieved by an objectionable one prefers to rely upon the reaction in his favor in the judge's mind, which will be shown when his influence comes to be exercised upon the jury.
That this laxity prevails, the least experience will show. Upon direct examination leading questions, which in America would bring a storm of objection, pass unnoticed, and even hearsay evidence is not unknown. The absence of the element of surprise in trials, may make those concerned more tolerant of counsel leading in a story known to all beforehand. The occasional element of hearsay is more difficult to explain unless, indeed, the French view gains in England, which justifies the admission of hearsay on the ground that in the most important questions of life—for example, in respect to the reputation of a man whom one contemplates trusting, or of a woman one thinks of marrying—men act exclusively upon hearsay and never upon direct evidence. But, of course, the law of evidence remains in England as it always has been: all that is here meant is that a degree of tolerance prevails and upon careful observation, the real cause of this tolerance will be found in the fact that both sidesrely on the influence of the judge to eliminate from the minds of the jury the effect of evidence wrongly introduced.
In England, mistress of the seas, with much the greatest merchant marine in the world, and with a large insular population living in close touch with the water, one finds, as might be expected, the best Admiralty Courts and Bar in the world.
The chart used by counsel in examining witnesses is pinned to a sloping table, among the barrister's benches and facing the Court. In collision cases, small models of steamers and sailing vessels, as well as arrows to indicate winds and tides, are employed. All of these may be veered and shifted as the trial progresses, by means of thumb pins projecting beneath and capable of being pressed into the table which has a cork top. The Admiralty trials are beautifully conducted and great familiarity with the affairs of the sea is displayed by the participants.
Models are very much used in all English Courts. In land condemnation, nuisance injunction and accident cases, one frequently sees elaborate models reproducing thelocus in quo. In actions concerning floods or other occurrences affecting considerable areas, models many squarefeet in size, reproducing the whole locality, are employed.
The Chief Justice sits at nisi prius more often than upon appeal. It seems odd, during the trial of an action for damage caused by a flood due to the alleged improper construction of a bridge, to see the Lord Chief Justice of England reaching far down with a long white, lath-like stick, into the solicitors' well to point out some feature of a model while interrogating a witness, and afterwards charging the jury stick in hand. It is still more strange to hear a judge, whose name is known the world over, gravely charging a jury as to the value, as evidence of identity, of a wart under the tail of a costermonger's donkey, the ownership of which is in dispute. Yet, like every feature of an English court, it is eminently practical and free from form or affectation.
The highly paid judges of the High Court, sit in the smallest case; the idea seems to be that if a man desires to assert his rights, however insignificant, it is the duty of the Government to afford him the opportunity. In the Divisional Court (an appeal court of limited jurisdiction) the Lord Chief Justice of England and two famous colleagues did not grudge, upon a recent occasion, to hear an appeal involving nominally £22. 11s.6d., payment on account having reduced the actual amount in controversy to £2. 11s. 6d. As the salaries of the occupants of the Bench were not less than £20,000 a year—to say nothing of those of the court attendants, and the fees of the barristers and solicitors on both sides—the economy of such an employment of human effort is not apparent. Some one, however, thought his rights had been invaded, which justified the waste, while the costs furnished a small stake upon the result.
THE COURT OF APPEAL—HOUSE OF LORDS—DIVISIONAL COURT—JUDICIAL COMMITTEE OF THE PRIVY COUNCIL.
THE COURT OF APPEAL—HOUSE OF LORDS—DIVISIONAL COURT—JUDICIAL COMMITTEE OF THE PRIVY COUNCIL.
The Court of Appeal—the last resort except for occasional cases which reach the House of Lords and Colonial appeals which go to the Privy Council—is, perhaps, the most perfectly working tribunal for the adjustment of conflicting rights which the wit of man in any age has devised. It is divided into two parts of three judges each, sitting simultaneously. The Lord Chancellor, the Chief Justice, or the Master of the Rolls presides over the respective parts and two associate Lord Justices of Appeal compose the court.
Printed briefs are not used, though the advantage of this omission is not apparent. There is no bill of exceptions and the appeal is in name, as well as in fact, a motion for a judgment the reverse of that rendered below or, in the alternative, for a new trial, and everything which transpired is open to review. Three barristers—the leader,junior and devil—together with the solicitors, are usually found on either side.
The leader for the appellant opens, stating the case with great particularity, and reads from the evidence, documents and charge to the jury at great length. Much time is thus spent because, for no discoverable reason, but probably due to ancient custom and lack of enterprise, the material is all in manuscript, often illegible and with occasional errors in the copies of the Court and opposing counsel. The result is tedious and prosy and an American auditor gets an unfavorable impression at this stage of the argument; an impression, however, which is later dispelled.
During the irksome opening, the court has been getting a grasp of the case, as becomes apparent when the argumentative stage is reached, for then there ensues a good tempered, courteous, informal debate between the several gentlemen, comprising the court and counsel. There is no "orating" and no declamation. The positions of the opponents are stated rapidly and smoothly. Each, as enunciated, is taken up by one or more members of the court and distinct intimation given whether the court agrees with the speaker. In case it does, he may pass on. On the other hand, deferential dissent may warn him tostrengthen his position, or a frank expression of doubt may be accompanied by a friendly invitation to the other side to contribute suggestions.
At the conclusion, judgment is rendered orally, in nine cases out of ten, by the presiding Lord Justice, as the last speaker resumes his seat. Then follow the opinions of the associate Lord Justices of Appeal, concurring or dissenting, all expressed with the utmost frankness and spontaneity. These are taken down stenographically, and, after revision, sometimes by the judge himself, find their way into the books to become authorities. Occasionally a "considered judgment" is reserved to be delivered within two or three days.
The contrast presented by these methods (for the system is not essentially different) to the average American appeal is very great. In America, only the ablest men know by a kind of intuition upon what points their cases will turn, and one often hears a more or less stereotyped speech delivered to a court sitting like silent images, without the slightest intimation to the speaker whether he is wasting effort upon conceded points, or slighting those upon which he may discover by the written opinion—delivered months afterwards—he has won or lost.
Sometimes these friendly debates in an English court of appeal are witty, and they are often rather amusing. In a case recently argued, the defendant, a real estate owner, appealed from a judgment for £300. against him for wrongfully evicting his tenant, the plaintiff, and putting his sick wife and furniture out on the sidewalk in the rain. There was not much to be said in his favor upon the merits of his act, but his counsel argued that plaintiff's advocate had used inflammatory language in his speech to the jury.
The judgment was immediately affirmed, the Lord Chancellor delivering an opinion to the effect that the control of the language used was a matter of discretion for the court below and could not be examined by the appellate court. Both of the associate Lord Justices concurred, but one proceeded to give quite different reasons. With the preliminary words: "Speaking only for myself, but not for his Lordship," and with a slight inclination of his head towards the Lord Chancellor, he said he was for affirming for an entirely different reason—not because he could not examine the language used below, but rather that he had done so. He then proceeded to rehearse the brutal conduct of the defendant, and wound up by declaring, "If it had been my sick wife andmy furniture which had been set out in the rain under the circumstances described, I do not think the English vocabulary contains the language I should wish my counsel to use in addressing the jury." This was received, as is not uncommon in England, but unheard of in America, with frequent laughter and even subdued applause, and the "LondonTimes" in its regular legal column the next day, reported the opinions and indicated the "laughter" and "loud laughter" in brackets. The opinions in the books, after being toned down by the reporter, often bear but faint resemblance to the actual utterances.
In the House of Lords appeals are equally informal and colloquial, an impression that is heightened by the absence of wigs and gowns, so far as the bench is concerned, and by the very casual manner in which the half dozen gentlemen composing the court are seated. The house itself is a large, oblong chamber with steep tiers of seats, upholstered in red leather, which rise high up the side walls and upon which the peers sit when legislating, but which are, of course, empty when the court only sit. At the far end is an unoccupied throne, while, at the near end, raised above the floor, is a kind of box from which counsel address the court. It is much like therear platform of one of our street cars. Counsel, of course, are in wig and gown, and if K. C.'s, in full bottomed wigs, but one may occasionally see a litigant actually arguing his own casein propria persona. On either side of the counsel's box is a very narrow standing place for reporters and the public.
The court, consisting of the Lord Chancellor in gown and full bottomed wig, and perhaps of five judges, in ordinary clothing, sit at the floor level, and therefore considerably lower than counsel in the elevated box. They are not placed in a row nor behind any bench or table. On the contrary, though the presiding Lord Chancellor is vis-a-vis to the counsel box, the others sit where they please. Sometimes this is on the front row of benches and sometimes on one of the higher tiers, with a foot propped up, perhaps, on the bench in front, and their thumbs hitched to the armholes of their waist-coats, and, necessarily, with their sides to the speaker. The members of the court often have portable tables in front of them, piled with books and papers. During the course of an argument they constantly debate with each other across the House, or walk over to one of their colleagues with some document or a book and talk of the case audibly and perfectlyfreely. One may hear one of them, in a salt and pepper suit, call across the floor to another Lord of Appeal who has interrupted a barrister's argument, "I say, can't you give the man a chance to say what he's got to say?"
These little circumstances show that judges and counsel in the appellate courts of England behave as natural men without the slightest restraint, formality or self-consciousness. Arguments are delivered with surprising rapidity of utterance, in a conversational tone, and with a crispness of articulation altogether delightful to the ear. The drawling style of speech sometimes heard on the stage as typical of a certain kind of Englishman, seems to have disappeared in real life; it certainly is not to be found in the Courts. An American stenographer reporting an English argument, would have to increase his accustomed speed at least one-third.
The methods of the Divisional Court are the same as those of the Court of Appeal, but the low limit of its jurisdiction renders it of little interest.
The Judicial Committee of the Privy Council—or, as it is colloquially described by the lawyers, "The Privy Council"—is doubtless the most interesting court in England because of the varietyof the questions there considered and owing to the fact that, geographically, the litigations originate in nearly every quarter of the civilized world, for, as noted above, this is the court of last resort for all of the British Colonies. It should not be confused with the Privy Council itself—a political adviser of the Crown—for the Judicial Committee's functions are purely judicial and its personnel consists of the Lord Chancellor and the other Law Lords, a few paid members, and some Ex-Colonial Judges. Historically, indeed, it was but a sub-committee of the Privy Council, which circumstance gives the Court its name and explains why its judgments always conclude with the phrase that the Committee "humbly advises His Majesty" to affirm or reverse the judgment rendered in the Colony, instead of pronouncing the conclusion in direct language, as do other courts.
This extraordinary body sits in a large second story chamber, not in the least resembling a court room, of a building in Downing Street, and rarely is there any audience other than the professional men whose business takes them there.
Of course, most of the Colonies are equipped with their own court of appeals—usually called the Supreme Court—but, nevertheless, an appeallies from their decisions to the Privy Council in certain circumstances, although to define exactly the scope of this jurisdiction would be too technical for present purposes.
Here are to be found, arguing their cases, lawyers from Colonies in every corner of the globe in some of which the division of the profession into barristers and solicitors hardly exists, or at least, the line separating them is quite hazy—but they must all appear in wig and gown.
Bearing in mind the fact that the Colonies of Great Britain are scattered over the whole world and that it has always been the policy, so far as possible, to accept the existing law of each and graft it upon the English law system, the diversity and broadness of this court's deliberations may be imagined.
The succession to an Indian Principality, to be determined under the ancient law of that far Eastern land, will be followed by a question of the legality of the adoption of a child in South Africa, to be considered under the rules of Dutch law. The next case will, perhaps, involve the effect upon an area much greater than that of all England, of the diversion of a river in the Canadian North-West. And the court may next turn its attention to the problem whether the widow ofa Scotchman who left two wills—one intended to operate at home and the other to take effect in Australia—can take her thirds against the will in Scotland but accept the benefits of the other will as to property in Australia.
The Court of Appeal and the House of Lords deal with domestic matters of the little Island, which, however important the principles involved and however critical the issues to the litigants themselves, seem almost petty in comparison with the broad field of the Privy Council. Little as the average man knows of it, and rarely as it figures in news of the day, no American lawyer can fail to perceive in this great court something of the tremendous scope of his own Supreme Court of the United States, to which tribunal only is the Privy Council secondary.
CURRENT HEARINGS—MINOR ISSUES THRESHED OUT.
CURRENT HEARINGS—MINOR ISSUES THRESHED OUT.
The numerous motions and interlocutory applications, supported by affidavits and urged by argument, which consume so much of the time of an American court, are disposed of in England by Masters—competent barristers appointed by the Courts, who are paid salaries of about £3,000 a year.
At a certain hour the Master takes his seat at a desk with a printed list of "applications without counsel" or "applications with counsel." He nods to the uniformed officer at the door who admits the solicitors engaged in the cause which happens to be first on the list of cases "without counsel." The solicitors stand before the Master with a shelf upon which to rest books or papers; one side then states its demand and the other its objection in the briefest and most direct manner. The Master's immediate oral decision, accompanied by imposition of the costs and a fewscratches of his pen on the back of the summons, indicates to the officer the opening of the door to admit the next case. By actual count twenty-seven cases may thus be disposed of in one hour and thirty-two minutes—an average of a little more than three minutes each. Of course there is a right of appeal, which, however, is rarely exercised.
As the door opens two solicitors hurry in. There are no salutations nor introductory remarks and the business proceeds abruptly:
Plaintiff's solicitor: "Master, we claim £50 judgment for rent."Master to defendant's solicitor: "Do you admit the amount?"Defendant's solicitor: "Yes, but we claim a set-off."Master: (endorsing a few words on the summons) "Judgment for rent £50 with stay of execution until counter claim is tried."Defendant's solicitor: "If you please, Master."
Plaintiff's solicitor: "Master, we claim £50 judgment for rent."
Master to defendant's solicitor: "Do you admit the amount?"
Defendant's solicitor: "Yes, but we claim a set-off."
Master: (endorsing a few words on the summons) "Judgment for rent £50 with stay of execution until counter claim is tried."
Defendant's solicitor: "If you please, Master."
This expression is the universal vernacular with which the defeated party accepts the judgment of a master or judge in all courts. The expression is not an interrogation but is equivalent to "as you please."
Out they go and the next enter; here the defendantasks for delay, and gets seven days which is endorsed on the summons and requires a minute.
Then comes an application under "order XIV" for judgment for £1,000. Defendant requires four days' delay.
Master: "What is the defence?"Defendant's solicitor: "Master, I don't know—a recent agreement has been made between the parties which I have not yet seen."Master: "I'll give you four days, but you must pay the costs of the adjournment; thirteen shillings and fourpence."Defendant's solicitor: "If you please, Master."
Master: "What is the defence?"
Defendant's solicitor: "Master, I don't know—a recent agreement has been made between the parties which I have not yet seen."
Master: "I'll give you four days, but you must pay the costs of the adjournment; thirteen shillings and fourpence."
Defendant's solicitor: "If you please, Master."
The next summons for judgment. As this is denied, the parties agree to try it before the Master on the following Thursday without a jury.
Then follows a summons by defendant upon plaintiff for particulars of goods sold and delivered. Both parties are dealers in Japanese bulbs, and the sale was made subject to arrival in England safe and sound. The defendant demands particulars of the plaintiff as to who were his customers. The plaintiff objects to disclosing his business and the written summons, containing the request for particulars, is gone over rapidly by the Master. Such parts of the requestas, in his opinion, ought not to have been demanded, because they pry into the plaintiff's private affairs, are eliminated by a stroke of the Master's pen and an order is made at the bottom in an abbreviated form, imposing the costs of the summons upon the plaintiff. This means that the plaintiff is obliged to furnish the defendant, in so many days, all the particulars which the Master did not strike out, and must pay the defendant the costs of the application.
A moment is consumed in giving judgment in an uncontested case for £1,800 with costs of £8. 16s. 0d.
Then comes a breach of promise case. The defendant asks for an order upon the plaintiff for a statement of claim and discovery of correspondence, which is granted. As most of the witnesses are in London, the defendant wants to try the case here, but the plaintiff wishes to try it in Manchester where the parties live. The Master thinks it is easier to bring two people up from Manchester than to take a dozen down from London.
Next is a summons for directions:
Master: "Statement of claim in ten days."Plaintiff's solicitor: "Yes, Master."Master: "Defence in ten days."Defendant's solicitor: "Yes, Master."Master: "No counter claim?"Defendant's solicitor: "No, Master."Master: "Documents?"Both solicitors: "Large number."Master: "All parties in London?"Both solicitors: "Yes."Master: "Any question of law?"Both solicitors: "No."Master: "Next case."
Master: "Statement of claim in ten days."
Plaintiff's solicitor: "Yes, Master."
Master: "Defence in ten days."
Defendant's solicitor: "Yes, Master."
Master: "No counter claim?"
Defendant's solicitor: "No, Master."
Master: "Documents?"
Both solicitors: "Large number."
Master: "All parties in London?"
Both solicitors: "Yes."
Master: "Any question of law?"
Both solicitors: "No."
Master: "Next case."
And he at once endorses a few words on the bottom of the summons.
Then a defendant appears in person:
Master: "Do you owe the £26?"Defendant: "Yes, sir."Plaintiff's solicitor: "We only want judgment for £21 because this morning he paid £5 on account, and he agrees to pay £3 a week, so that we will not issue execution if he does this."Master: "I'll give you judgment generally for £21, but you write defendant a letter stating that you will not issue execution as you have just stated."
Master: "Do you owe the £26?"
Defendant: "Yes, sir."
Plaintiff's solicitor: "We only want judgment for £21 because this morning he paid £5 on account, and he agrees to pay £3 a week, so that we will not issue execution if he does this."
Master: "I'll give you judgment generally for £21, but you write defendant a letter stating that you will not issue execution as you have just stated."
Another defendant appears in person:
Defendant: "I've got no defence, all I want is time."Plaintiff's solicitor: "We'll do nothing until Monday as we think he means to pay."Master: "All right, it is understood you will do nothing until Monday."
Defendant: "I've got no defence, all I want is time."
Plaintiff's solicitor: "We'll do nothing until Monday as we think he means to pay."
Master: "All right, it is understood you will do nothing until Monday."
The details of practice before these Masters would be beyond the scope of the present writing, suffice it to say that rules have been promulgated from time to time, and are constantly being improved upon, having for their object the simplification of procedure, the rapid despatch of business and the settling of all minor questions which may arise in a case before actual trial. Thus, "Order XIV," just referred to, enables a Master to enter judgment when the defence averred, even if true, would not be effectual, or when the defence is obviously frivolous, although, of course, the rights of the defendant are preserved by the privilege of appeal, the judgment, meantime, binding his property. Again, the "summons for directions" is to enable the Master to give general directions as to how the parties shall proceed, the intervals of time to be allowed for exchange of copies of documents, taking foreign testimony and what not.
One of the cleverest contrivances in the practice before Masters is the "tender of damages in tort without admitting liability." A defendantmay tender, say, £500. If plaintiff does not accept it, the trial ensues—the jury, of course, being in ignorance of the tender. If the judgment be for defendant, or for more than the tender, that is the end of the matter. But if the judgment be for less than the tender, a large deduction for costs is made from the judgment, and inures to the defendant's benefit. This has enormously reduced the volume of accident cases and has also curbed the often wildly extravagant demands and unjust results in such actions generally recognized as evils difficult to deal with.
In short, the system of Masters in England works admirably. It is entirely adaptable to American courts, the details and modifications which might prove necessary being fitted to local conditions, but in any such adaptation, the general purpose should be kept in view, namely, that when a case appears upon a trial list it shall have already been pruned of all non-essential preliminary details and is forthwith to be actually tried upon its merits; the court's time being too precious to be expended upon the subsidiary side issues.
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CURRENT HEARINGS.
CURRENT HEARINGS.
Upon arrest, a preliminary hearing is first held at a police station where, as in most English proceedings, the testimony, with anything the prisoner may say (after he has been warned of the consequence of self-incrimination) is carefully reduced to longhand writing and plays an important part at the subsequent stages of the prosecution.
The next step is the hearing before a Police Magistrate at Bow or Marlborough Streets, or at any one of the like courts in London which, although of minor importance, are dignified tribunals. The court room is entered by two small doors, one for the witnesses and audience, the other for officials and solicitors, and there is another passage leading from the cells through which the prisoners are brought to a dock. This dock, as in all criminal courts, is at the far end of the room from the magistrate. The prisoneris thus isolated and can only communicate with his solicitor, if he has been able to retain one, by scrawling a note and passing it on to an officer.
The magistrate, appointed by the Crown or the Lord Chancellor acting in its behalf, is almost invariably a man of standing and repute, always a barrister, whose ready dispatch of business shows great experience with crime, and whose kindness to the merely unfortunate testifies to his charitableness of heart. He wears no wig nor gown and is called in court, "Your Worship"; whereas judges of the High Court are called in court, "My Lord," and those of the County Courts, "Your Honor." All judges, however, are addressed in private life as "Mr." or, if they have one, by a title. A Judge of the High Court is always knighted on appointment and in private life is addressed as "Mr. Justice ——" unless he is a Peer. Solicitors act for the more important prisoners but barristers are rarely seen and appear in ordinary street dress if at all.
The early morning run of business consists chiefly of the "drunks", divided nearly equally as to sex, and of persons arrested for begging and minor misbehavior. These cases are disposed of with great rapidity.
A woman, looking very silly, and with hermillinery somewhat awry, is ushered into the dock charged with being "drunk and disorderly."
Magistrate: "Do you admit it?"Woman: "Hi hadmit hi 'ad a little too much, but deny being disorderly, Your Worship."Police Constable: (sworn) "She was banging on the door of the Black Horse at 2 A.M. screamin' for drink. I cautioned her and then saw her repeat this at another closed 'pooblic', so I took her in charge."Magistrate: (To an officer with a book of records) "Is she known?"Officer: "No, Your Worship, she was never here before."Magistrate: "Five shillings or five days."
Magistrate: "Do you admit it?"
Woman: "Hi hadmit hi 'ad a little too much, but deny being disorderly, Your Worship."
Police Constable: (sworn) "She was banging on the door of the Black Horse at 2 A.M. screamin' for drink. I cautioned her and then saw her repeat this at another closed 'pooblic', so I took her in charge."
Magistrate: (To an officer with a book of records) "Is she known?"
Officer: "No, Your Worship, she was never here before."
Magistrate: "Five shillings or five days."
As she is rapidly conducted through the passage and disappears in the direction of the cells, one hears called from official to official the words: "Five or five."
The next is an intelligent, elderly, but very shabby, man charged with begging. The police officer had testified that a lady gave the prisoner money and that he immediately entered the nearest "pooblic". The prisoner's explanation was that he had been given the shilling without his having asked for it, and that he had gone to the tavern to get bread and cheese, which he greatly needed, and a glass of beer. The magistraterather rebuked the policeman for referring to the visit to the public house as counting against the man, adding that anybody had the perfect right to do as he had. Then, addressing the prisoner, he said, kindly, that he was by no means sure that actual solicitation by words was essential to constitute begging and that his mere appearance was an appeal. It seemed as though the man was about to get off, when the inevitable question "Is he known?" brought the information that he had been in Court upon the same charge on February 19th, on March 5th and again the month following. The magistrate's manner quickly changed, as he recognized an old offender, "Three months hard labor," he said, and "three hard" was repeated like an echo down the corridor as the prisoner slunk back to the cells.
The next was a well-dressed young man, apparently a clerk, charged with being drunk and disorderly.
Prisoner: "It's quoite roight what the constable says."Magistrate: "Seven shillings and sixpence or six days."A voice down the corridor: "Seven and six or six."
Prisoner: "It's quoite roight what the constable says."
Magistrate: "Seven shillings and sixpence or six days."
A voice down the corridor: "Seven and six or six."
A Subject for the Police CourtA Subject for the Police Court
After the early business, which is dispatched with great rapidity, come the more serious cases, which, if well-founded, are to be held for trial. An American was charged with obtaining money and goods by false pretence. Soliciting advertisements from tradespeople for a book intended for Americans visiting London, which never was published; he had obtained money on account and at the same time, procured millinery and garments for a woman whom he introduced as his fiancée. He was represented by a barrister who would try his case if he were held for trial. The witnesses consisted of milliners and dressmakers who detailed the method of his operations. The magistrate referred frequently to the memoranda of their evidence, taken at the police station, and questioned them so as to elicit their testimony, which he wrote down in longhand. The defendant's barrister cross-examined and the magistrate added the substance of the cross-examination to the deposition which was finally signed by the witness, to be used by the trial judge as his guide, if the grand jury should find a true bill. During the examination, one was struck by the alacrity, and glibness of the replies, as in all London courts of whatever degree. An American ear is impressed by the thought that possibly these people,living in a densely packed community of five millions, all speaking one language, are particularly facile in the use of the mother tongue, unlike the English rustic who is apt to be taciturn and awkward of speech. One is also struck, as in all courts, by a certain ring of sincerity, an attitude of respect for the administration of law and the quick and cheerful co-operation of all concerned. The Englishman truly appears to the best advantage in his court, where he leads the world.
If the accused be held for trial by the magistrate, the next step, as with us, is the presentation of the charge to the grand jury. The grand jury either throw out the indictment or find a true bill, in which event a jury trial follows at the Central Criminal Court.
CURRENT TRIALS.
CURRENT TRIALS.
At the corner of Newgate and Old Bailey streets, near Fleet street and not far from Ludgate Hill, stands a modern building, officially known as the Central Criminal Court, but popularly called "the Old Bailey." It occupies the site of the ancient Newgate Gaol and Fleet Prison, where, for nearly seven centuries the criminals of London expiated their crimes. There they were tried and, if convicted, hanged on the premises, or—a scarcely better fate—thrown into Newgate Prison, which, from time immemorial, was so overcrowded, so ill-ventilated and so poorly supplied with water that it was the hot-bed of diseases designated as "prison fever." At a single session of court the fever had been known to carry off fifty human beings; not only prisoners, but such august personages as judges, mayors, aldermen and sheriffs.
The present fine structure is exclusively a court house to which prisoners are brought for trial and confined in sanitary cells beneath the court rooms only while awaiting the call of their cases. There are three courts: two presided over by judges called, respectively, the Common Serjeant and the Recorder, together with the Lord Chief Justice of England, or such other judge of the High Court as may be designated for the month, who comes from his civil work in the Strand Law Courts to try criminal cases at the Old Bailey. Each month, also, two or three Aldermen and Sheriffs of the City of London are scheduled for the complimentary duty of attending their Lordships and entertaining them at luncheon.
The court rooms are rather small and nearly square. Like every London court, they have oak panelled walls, and excellent illumination from above by skylights; they are arranged with a high dais—on which are the chairs and desks for the presiding judge, the sheriffs, or for any guest—and they have the usual steep upward slope of the benches for barristers on the one side and for the jury on the other. Only the solicitors' table is at the floor level. This arrangement brings all the participants in a trial more nearly together than if they were distributedover a flat floor. At the end of the room farthest from the judge is the prisoners' dock, a large square box, elevated almost to the judge's level. This the prisoner reaches by a stairway from the cells below (invisible because of the sides of the dock), accompanied by officers, and he stands throughout the trial—unless invited by the judge to be seated—completely isolated from his barrister and from his solicitor and can only communicate with his defenders by scrawling a lead pencil note and passing it to an officer. A small area of sloping benches, together with a very inadequate gallery, are the only accommodations for the public.
If the visitor happens to be a guest of the Court, he will be ushered in by a door leading to the raised dais and will sit at a desk beside the judge. His eye will first be arrested by a small heap on his desk of dried aromatic herbs and rose leaves and, while speculating as to the purpose of these, he will discover similar little piles on the desks of the presiding judge and sheriffs. He will also observe that the carpet of the dais is thickly strewn with the same litter. Vaguely it is suggested that the court room has been used over night for some kind of a horticultural exhibition and that the sweeping has been overlooked.Later, his astonishment, however, is redoubled when enter the sheriffs and the judge each carrying a bright colored bouquet of roses or sweet peas bound up in an old-fashioned, stiff, perforated paper holder. The visitor ventures to whisper his curiosity and he is then informed that, in the former times, these herbs, and the perfume of fresh flowers, were supposed to prevent the contagion of prison fever; and that the ancient custom has survived the use of disinfectants and the modern sanitation of prisoners and cells.
The opening of court in the morning and after luncheon is a curious ceremony. The Bar and audience rise and, through a door corresponding to the one by which the visitor has reached the dais, enter the two sheriffs gowned in flowing dark blue robes trimmed with fur. Then comes the under-sheriff in a very smart black velvet knee breeches suit, white ruffled shirt, white stockings, silver buckled shoes, cocked hat under arm and sword at side. The sheriffs bow in ushering to his seat the judge, who is arrayed in wig and robe, which, in the case of the Lord Chief Justice, or one of the judges of the High Court, is of brilliant scarlet with a dark blue sash over one shoulder, or in the case of the Common Sergeant, is of sombre black. Each member of the courtcarries the bouquet referred to and the whole group afford a dash of color strong in contrast with the dark setting. The judge, having seated himself in a chair—so cumbersome as to require a little track to roll it forward sufficiently close to the desk—the sheriffs dispose themselves in the seats not occupied by the judge or his guest, and, later, they quietly withdraw. They have no part in the proceedings, their only function being to usher in and out the judges, and to entertain them at luncheon—the judges being by custom their guests. The judge having taken his seat, the Bar and public do the same and the business begins. There are usually two such courts sitting at the Old Bailey—sometimes three of them.
At lunch time the sheriffs again escort the judges from their seats, and all the judges, sheriffs and under-sheriffs, and any guests they may invite, assemble in the dining-room of the court house for an excellent, substantial luncheon served by butler and footman in blue liveries with brass buttons, knee breeches and white stockings. The luncheon table looks odd with the varied costumes, the rich blues, the bright scarlets and the wigs of the party, who, no longer on duty, relax into jolly sociability. Indeed onecan not escape the impression that he has in some way joined a group of "supes" from the opera who are snatching a light supper between the choruses. These are some of the picturesque features of the Old Bailey which, at the same time, is the theatre of the most sensible and enlightened application of law to the every day affairs of the largest aggregation of human beings the world has ever seen.
While enjoying a cigar after luncheon with one of the under-sheriffs, the voice of the Common Serjeant or Recorder is heard at the door of the smoking room. Robed and armed with his bouquet, he smilingly inquires if there are no sheriffs to escort him into court. A hasty buckling on of sword, a snatching up of his bouquet and a little dusting of cigar ashes from his velvet knee breeches, prepares the under-sheriff for the function, and, preceded by the sheriffs in their blue gowns, his Lordship bringing up the rear, the little procession starts along the corridor and enters the door leading to the judges' dais. The under-sheriff shortly returns to finish his cigar but the guest tarries beside the judge.
The first case was a minor one—a charge of breaking and entering a shop and stealing some goods. His name having been called, the prisonersuddenly popped up into the dock at the far end of the room with police officers on either side of him. Asked if he objected to any of the jurors already seated in the box, he replied in the negative and the trial began. The junior barrister opened very briefly, merely stating the name, date, locality and nature of the charge. Following him the senior barrister gave the details at much greater length. These barristers were not, as with us, district attorneys or state prosecutors. They are either retained by the Treasury or, as the case may be, represent private prosecutors. The judge was fully conversant with the evidence, as he had before him the depositions taken at the Magistrate's Court.
In an English court, when counsel has finished the direct examination of a witness, he does not say, as we do, "cross-examine" or "the witness is yours", he simply resumes his seat as the signal for the other side to cross-examine. Sometimes, a pause of the voice simultaneously with a stooping of the barrister's head for a word of suggestion from the solicitor below, leads his opponent to believe he is seating himself and to begin to cross-examine prematurely.
Although in this case the plea was "not guilty," the charge was practically undefended, and aprompt verdict of "guilty" followed. Then came the important query from the judge to the police as to whether the prisoner "is known"—was there a record of former convictions? Learning that there was not, a sentence to eighteen calendar months at hard labor followed a caution that if he should be brought again before the court, he would be sent to penal servitude. With a servile "If your Lordship pleases" he turned to dive down the stairs, and, as he did so, with a grinning leer, seized his left hand in his right and cordially shook hands with himself—a bit of a gesticular slang which led one to think that the police were not very well informed as to his previous experiences.
The next was a more important case. A clever but sinister-looking Belgian, the master of several languages, was charged with obtaining a valuable pair of diamond earrings by an ingenious swindle. Having a slight acquaintance with a dealer in stones, he telephoned that a friend of his was coming over to London from Paris to join his wife and desired to present her with a pair of earrings. If the dealer had suitable stones and would allow a commission, the Belgian said he would try to effect a sale for him. He, therefore, arranged that the dealer, at a fixedhour the following day, should bring the stones to his lodgings for the Frenchman's inspection. The appointment was kept and the two men waited for some time for the Frenchman. Finally the latter's wife appeared and explained to the Belgian in French—which the Englishman did not understand—that her husband had been detained but would come by a later train, whereupon she withdrew, and the conversation was interpreted to the disappointed dealer.
Then the Belgian suggested that, if the dealer cared to leave the stones, he would give a receipt for them and would either return them or the money by half-past four. The dealer replied that although he was quite willing to do so, he had partners whose interest he must consult. The Belgian then produced a certificate of stock in some Newfoundland Company, saying that it was worth as much as the diamonds. The dealer consented to receive this as security and he then left. Just before half-past four he was called up on the telephone and told by the Belgian that he had made the sale and had received the money in French notes which he would have changed into English money. The dealer told him to bring the French notes, which would be acceptable to him. That, of course, was the last he ever saw ofthe money, the diamonds or the swindler, until the latter was arrested some months later.
The leading nature of the direct examination, so marked in all English courts, was conspicuous in such questions as the following:
Q: "Did the defendant telephone you about 4.15?"A: "Yes, sir."Q: "Did you recognize his voice?"A: "Yes, sir."Q: "Did you send an assistant to the defendant's flat with a letter and was it returned to you unopened?"A: "Yes, sir."
Q: "Did the defendant telephone you about 4.15?"
A: "Yes, sir."
Q: "Did you recognize his voice?"
A: "Yes, sir."
Q: "Did you send an assistant to the defendant's flat with a letter and was it returned to you unopened?"
A: "Yes, sir."
The Secretary of the Newfoundland Company having been called, was asked: "Were the shares in defendant's name formerly in the name of John Smith?"A: "Yes."Q: "Was there an order of court forbidding their transfer?"A: "Yes."
Two pawnbrokers testified that, shortly after four o'clock, the prisoner had brought the earrings to their shops and asked how much would be loaned upon them and that, the sum offered being apparently unsatisfactory, the Belgian took the earrings away.
Defendant's barrister: "My Lord, I submit, I've no case to answer."The Court: "Oh, yes, you have."Barrister: "Well, if your Lordship thinks so."
Defendant's barrister: "My Lord, I submit, I've no case to answer."
The Court: "Oh, yes, you have."
Barrister: "Well, if your Lordship thinks so."
The defence was cleverer than the original swindle in that it did not attempt to deny the overwhelming evidence, but merely made the story tally with an ostensibly innocent explanation. The Belgian averred that he had himself been robbed by the Frenchman, with whom he had but a slight acquaintance gained at the Paris races. He said that the Frenchman had kept the deferred appointment and, though he admired the stones, he thought them hardly worth the price, whereupon the two had set off in a cab to obtain an opinion as to their value. If thus assured, he was to make the purchase and together they were to take them to his wife in a hotel near Piccadilly. As it was late in the day, they failed to find a French-speaking jeweller whom they sought, and it was suggested that, as pawnbrokers were very cautious in loaning, two opinions of that fraternity should be had. On stopping at the pawnbrokers' shops, the Frenchman, being ignorant of English, said there was no use of his going in as he would have to rely upon his companion's interpretation and mightas well sit in the cab. Thus, the visits by the Belgian alone to the two pawnshops and the inquiry as to the amount procurable as a loan, were duly accounted for.
According to the prisoner's story, the Frenchman, being satisfied, proposed to pay in French notes and the Belgian entered a public telephone booth to enquire of his principal if that would be satisfactory, leaving the jewels with the Frenchman in the cab. When he returned the cab was gone.
His intention having been to leave for the Continent the following day, the Belgian said he had already notified the landlord of his flat—which was apparently true—and had dispatched his effects in advance. So, supposing that the Frenchman had gone to Paris, he immediately followed on the evening train in the hope of identifying him en route, or of finding him somewhere in that city. He swore he did find him a few days later and caused his arrest, and that the French magistrate declined to hold him because the crime had been committed in England where there was no warrant out, and, hence, no demand for extradition.
The weakest point in this ingenious fabrication was the prisoner's failure to communicate withthe owner of the diamonds during the ensuing five months. This, and other discrepancies, having been easily laid bare on cross-examination, a verdict of guilty was quickly rendered.
The judge had hardly uttered the usual query whether the prisoner was known, before an alert police inspector replied, "He is an international swindler, well-known all over the Continent, wanted in Berlin for a job of 20,000 marks, in Paris for another of 30,000 francs and elsewhere."
Judge: "Suppose we give him a few months and allow the foreign police to apply for extradition?"Inspector: "Well, Your Lordship, the trouble is that he claims to have been born in Paris of English parents and that he is, therefore, a British subject, and the French police will jolly well accept his statement."Judge: "That's very awkward. We'll give him twelve calendar months and see what transpires."
Judge: "Suppose we give him a few months and allow the foreign police to apply for extradition?"
Inspector: "Well, Your Lordship, the trouble is that he claims to have been born in Paris of English parents and that he is, therefore, a British subject, and the French police will jolly well accept his statement."
Judge: "That's very awkward. We'll give him twelve calendar months and see what transpires."
[144]
Amongst the murder trials on the "Calendar of Prisoners" appeared "No 38; Madar Lal Dhingra, 25, Student, wilful murder of Sir William Hutt Curzon Wyllie and Dr. Cowas Lalcaca." This referred to the cowardly assassination of an English gentleman who had devoted his life to Indian administration and to benefiting the native races of that country, and to the murder of an Indian doctor, who lost his life in an effort to save him. The tragedy, the news of which had profoundly shocked the world less than three weeks before, occurred during an evening reception at the Imperial Institute. The prisoner, a fanatical Indian student, was believed to have borne no personal animosity to his victim.
No one knew exactly when the case would be reached, but it had been expected for several days when, one morning, the Old Bailey, inview of a possible disturbance by Indian sympathizers, was found to be carefully guarded by detectives. Except a small audience admitted by cards which were doubtless hard to procure and not transferable, the public, clamoring at the doors, were excluded from the Court, although one American lady, who appeared in one of the back seats, seemed to have had information and influence necessary to gain an entrée.
The barristers' benches, however, were so full that there was an unusual array of bewigged heads on that side of the court. The jury, already in place, and the small audience, waited in quiet but tense expectation. While one was idly noting the usual dried herbs and rose leaves on the desks and carpet of the judges' dais, the Lord Chief Justice seated himself and rolled his chair forward, a shaft of soft sun rays from the skylight accentuating his scarlet robe. The sheriffs bowed and took their seats at the side, and Dhingra's name was called.
Into the dock at the far end of the room popped the prisoner, guarded by two imperturbable policemen. He was a little, yellow youth with a Semitic or Oriental countenance, silky black hair much dishevelled and badly in need of the scissors, and eyes, so far asthey were discernible under his gold-rimmed spectacles, of glittering black. He wore an ordinary gray suit and stood with his right hand thrust into the breast of his coat, suggesting that he had concealed there some weapon or, perhaps, poison; but of course he had long since been disarmed and under careful guard. His was a meagre figure, by no means conveying to an observer his own conceited estimate of his personality. When he spoke, though posing as a hero and martyr, he revealed only a sullen, sulky and venomous disposition and the ferocity of his character was attested by the premeditated and treacherous murder which he had committed.
The Clerk of Arraigns having asked whether the prisoner pleaded guilty or not guilty, his reply was at first not understood because of his broken English and his quick, spasmodic utterance. So his answer had to be repeated, as follows:
Prisoner: "First of all, I would say these words can not be used with regard to me at all. Whatever I did was an act of patriotism which was justified. The only thing I have got to say is contained in that statement, which I believe you have got."The Clerk: "The only question is whether youplead guilty or not guilty to this indictment."Prisoner: "Well, according to my view I will plead not guilty."The Clerk: "Are you defended by counsel?"Prisoner: "No."
Prisoner: "First of all, I would say these words can not be used with regard to me at all. Whatever I did was an act of patriotism which was justified. The only thing I have got to say is contained in that statement, which I believe you have got."
The Clerk: "The only question is whether youplead guilty or not guilty to this indictment."
Prisoner: "Well, according to my view I will plead not guilty."
The Clerk: "Are you defended by counsel?"
Prisoner: "No."
There were three barristers for the prosecution, including the Attorney General who chiefly conducted the case. The Lord Chief Justice volunteered leave to the prisoner to sit down, which he did, appearing more diminutive than ever, in contrast with his guardians. The junior barrister having stated the names, the date and locality of the crime very briefly, the Attorney General opened the case for the prosecution in great detail, consuming a third of the ninety minutes which elapsed before sentence of death. In his opening, as is usual in England, he produced exhibits and read letters not yet offered in evidence.
In substance it was related that Dhingra came to England about three years before to study engineering and fell into the association of India House, a rendezvous in London of Indians of seditious proclivities. He lived in lodgings where he had few visitors and where, after the murder, was found a letter from Sir CurzonWyllie which was read in the opening speech and which stated that the prisoner had been commended to the writer's protection and offered to be of service to him while in England. The story was told of his procuring a license to carry a weapon, of his purchase of a Colt's automatic magazine revolver and another revolver, of cartridges and of a long dagger—all of which were produced by the speaker and the triggers of the empty pistols snapped to show the jury how they worked.
An account of his frequent practice at a pistol gallery for three months and up to the very afternoon of the day of the tragedy and the use of a target the size of a man's head, preceded an exhibition of the last paper target used, when four bullets out of the five had pierced the bull's eye. The speaker described how Dhingra had called his victim aside into a vestibule while Lady Wyllie proceeded down the staircase, how he fired four shots pointblank, which passed through Sir Curzon's head; how Dr. Lalcaca had tried to intervene and was shot for his temerity, and how, finally, an elderly English baronet had grappled with the murderer and succeeded in wresting the revolver from him and bearing him to the floor.
The witnesses were then called and examined with great rapidity, the judge restricting their testimony to essentials and checking both counsel and witness from the slightest digression. This seemed to be carried almost to an extreme, as an untrained witness often brings forth an important fact amid much irrelevant verbosity. At the end of the direct examination of the first witness, his Lordship asked Dhingra if he wished to cross-examine. The latter growled a negative but added that he had something to say, whereupon he was informed that he would have an opportunity for that later. Thereafter, when asked the same question at the conclusion of each witness' evidence, he merely shook his head.
The prosecution having rested, Dhingra was asked if he had any witnesses and replied that he had not. The Lord Chief Justice then informed him that if he had anything to say, now would be his chance, and asked whether he desired to speak where he was—from the dock—or from the stand. The judge of course referred to the difference between a mere unsworn statement which might be in the nature of a plea to the jury to add a recommendation for mercy to their verdict, or, sworn testimony which might go to the merits of guilt or innocence. It was apparentthat the prisoner, as he was without counsel, did not understand this question and, as well, that the judge did not comprehend his inability to grasp a distinction indicated in the question. Doubtless, as the prisoner was bound to be hanged—and he richly deserved it—the misunderstanding made not the slightest difference in this case, but one could not help feeling that the failure to provide counsel was a serious defect in the administration of justice.
Dhingra elected to remain in the dock and stated that he was unable to remember all he wanted to say, but that he had committed it to a writing which was in the possession of the police. This was then read by the Clerk but so falteringly owing to the manuscript being illegible, that the effect of the revolutionary diatribe was largely lost. The LondonTimes, however, printed it the next day as follows:
"I do not want to say anything in defence of myself, but simply to prove the justice of my deed. For myself I do not think any English law court has got any authority to arrest me, or to detain me in prison, or to pass sentence of death upon me. That is the reason why I did not have any counsel to defend me. I maintain that if it would be patriotic in an Englishmanto fight against the Germans, if they were to occupy this country, it is much more justifiable and patriotic in my case to fight against the English. I hold the English people responsible for the murder of eighty millions of my countrymen in the last fifty years, and they are also responsible for taking away £100,000,000 every year from India to this country.
"I also hold them responsible for the hanging and deportation of my patriotic countrymen, who do just the same as the English people here are advising their countrymen to do. An Englishman who goes out to India and gets, say, £100 a month, simply passes the sentence of death upon one thousand of my poor countrymen who could live on that £100 a month, which the Englishman spends mostly on his frivolities and pleasures.
"Just as the Germans have got no right to occupy this country, so the English people have no right to occupy India, and it is perfectly justifiable on our part to kill an Englishman who is polluting our sacred land.
"I am surprised at the terrible hypocrisy, farce, and mockery of the English people when they pose as champions of oppressed humanity such as in the case of the people of the Congo and ofRussia, while there is such terrible oppression and such horrible atrocities in India. For example, they kill 2,000,000 of our people every year and outrage our women. If this country is occupied by Germans and an Englishman, not bearing to see the Germans walking with the insolence of conquerors in the streets of London, goes and kills one or two Germans, then, if that Englishman is held as a patriot by the people of this country, then certainly I am a patriot too, working for the emancipation of my Motherland. Whatever else I have to say is in the statement now in the possession of the court. I make this statement, not because I wish to plead for mercy or anything of that kind. I wish the English people will sentence me to death, for in that case the vengeance of my countrymen will be all the more keen. I put forward this statement to show the justice of my cause to the outside world, especially to our sympathizers in America and Germany. That is all."
His Lordship then asked the prisoner if he wished to say anything more.
The prisoner at first said "No", but just as the Lord Chief Justice was commencing to sum up the case to the jury, Dhingra said there was another statement on foolscap paper.
His Lordship: "Any other statement you must make now yourself."Prisoner: "I do not remember it now."His Lordship: "You must make any statement you wish to the jury. If there is anything, say it now."Prisoner: "It was taken from my pocket amongst other papers."His Lordship: "I do not care what was in your pocket. With what you had written before, we have nothing to do. You can say anything you wish to the jury. What you have written on previous occasions is no evidence in this case. If you wish to say anything to the jury in defence of yourself, say it now. Do you wish to say anything more?"Prisoner: "No."
His Lordship: "Any other statement you must make now yourself."
Prisoner: "I do not remember it now."
His Lordship: "You must make any statement you wish to the jury. If there is anything, say it now."
Prisoner: "It was taken from my pocket amongst other papers."
His Lordship: "I do not care what was in your pocket. With what you had written before, we have nothing to do. You can say anything you wish to the jury. What you have written on previous occasions is no evidence in this case. If you wish to say anything to the jury in defence of yourself, say it now. Do you wish to say anything more?"
Prisoner: "No."
The Lord Chief Justice then summed up the case to the jury in a charge occupying but six minutes. He said that the evidence was absolutely conclusive; that the jury had no concern with any political justification for the crime, for if anything of the kind were considered it would be in the carrying of the sentence into effect—with which the jury had nothing to do—that this was an ordinary crime by which a blamelessman, who had devoted himself to the public service and had done much for the natives of India, had lost his life, and that it was quite plain there had been premeditation. His Lordship added that there was nothing which could induce the jury to reduce the crime from murder to manslaughter, nor was it suggested that Dhingra was insane, so that if the jury believed the uncontradicted evidence the only possible verdict was one of wilful murder.
Without leaving the box the jury put their heads together and, in less than a minute, the foreman arose and uttered the fateful word "Guilty."
There are no degrees of murder in England, but in cases where a weak intellect or greatly extenuating circumstances render hanging too severe a penalty, the Home Secretary may exercise a power of commutation. Thereupon Dhingra having been ordered to stand up, the clerk addressed him as follows: "You stand convicted of the crime of wilful murder. Have you anything to say for yourself, why sentence of death should not be passed on you according to law?"
Prisoner: (with a snarl) "I have told you once I do not acknowledge the authority of the Court. You can do whatever you like withme—I do not care. Remember, one day we shall be all-powerful, and then we can do what we like."
Prisoner: (with a snarl) "I have told you once I do not acknowledge the authority of the Court. You can do whatever you like withme—I do not care. Remember, one day we shall be all-powerful, and then we can do what we like."
Then followed absolute silence for two minutes—a silence in which the breathing of persons near was audible.
Slowly the Lord Chief Justice lifted from his desk a piece of black cloth. It was the "Black Cap." One naturally thinks, from its name, that this is a kind of headgear corresponding to the shape of a man's head. On the contrary, it looks like a piece of plain limp cloth, a remnant from a tailor's shop, about a foot square, which the judge places on the top of his wig, letting it rest there quite casually and perhaps at a rakish angle, the four corners hanging down and the whole producing a somewhat ludicrous effect. Neither judge, jury, nor audience, rose when sentence was about to be pronounced, but all remained seated, except the prisoner, who stood in dreary isolation, flanked by his stalwart guard, at his elevated station in the dock. His Lordship, the dignity of whose well-modulated voice contrasted strongly with his comical head covering, slowly addressed the prisoner as follows: