I had pledged myself to the task, which extended over many months more than I ever anticipated. At every sacrifice, however, I was bound to devote myself to the case, and did so, although I had to relinquish a very large portion of my professional income.
What made things worse, there was not only no effort made to curtail the business, but advantage was taken of every circumstance to prolong it. The longer it was dragged out the better chance there was of an acquittal. Had a juryman died after months of the trial had passed, the Government must have abandoned the prosecution. It would have been impossible to commence again. This was the last hope of the defence.
[The trial before Bovill ended at last, as it ought to have done months before, in a verdict for the defendants and the order for the prosecution of the Claimant for perjury. It was this prosecution that occupied the attention of the court and of the world for 188 days, extending over portions of two years.
There is no doubt that Coleridge would a second time have deprived the country of Mr. Hawkins's services, but higher influences than his prevailed, and the distinguished counsel was appointed to lead for the Crown, with Mr. Serjeant Parry as his leading junior. It is not too much to say that no one knew the case so well as Mr. Hawkins, and none could have done it so well. Bowen and Mathews were also his juniors.
The whole case, from the commencement of the Chancery proceedings down to the commencement of this trial, had been a comedy of blunders. The very claim was an absurdity, every step in the great fraud was an absurdity, and every proceeding had some ridiculous absurdity to accompany it. It was not until the cross-examination of Baigent by Mr. Hawkins that the undoubted truth began to appear.
"You are the first," said Baron Bramwell, "who has let daylight into the case." It will be seen presently what the simple story was which the learned counsel at last evolved from the lies and half-truths which had for so many years imposed upon a great number even of the intelligent and educated classes of the community. And I would observe that until nearly the end of the trial the case was never safe or quite free from doubt; it was only what was elicited by Mr. Hawkins that made it so. No Wonder the advocate said to Giffard, who was opposed to him on the first trial: "If you and I had been together in that case in the first instance, we should have won it for the Claimant." Being on the other side, this is how the case stood when he had completed it:—
The real heir to the family was a fairly well-formed, slender youth of medium height. The personator of this youth was a man an inch and a half or two inches taller, and weighing five-and-twenty stone. His hands were a great deal larger than those of Roger, and at least an inch longer; his feet were an inch and a half longer. He was broader, deeper, thicker, and altogether of a different build. The lobes of his ears, instead of being pendent like Roger's, adhered to his cheeks. But he was not more unlike in physical outline than in mental endowment, taste, character, pursuits, and sentiment, in manners and habits, in culture and education, connection and recollection.
Roger had been educated at Stonyhurst, with the education of a gentleman; this man had never had any education at all. Roger had moved in the best English society; this man amongst slaughtermen, bushrangers, thieves, and highwaymen. Roger had been engaged to a young lady, his cousin, Kate Doughty; this man had been engaged to a young woman of Wapping, of the name of Mary Ann Loader, a respectable girl in his own sphere of life.
Roger's engagement to this young lady, his cousin, was disapproved of by the Tichborne family, and was the cause of his leaving England. But before he went he gave her a writing, and deposited a copy of it with Mr. Gosford, the legal adviser of the family.
This document was one of the most important incidents in the history of the case, and upon it, if the cross-examination had been conducted by Mr. Hawkins in Chancery, the case would have been crushed at the outset. It is not my task to show how, but to state what it all came to when the learned counsel left it to the jury to say whether the claimantwasthe Roger Tichborne he had sworn himself to be, or whether he was Arthur Orton, the butcher of Wapping, whom he swore he was not.
This document forms the subject of the "sealed packet" left with Mr. Gosford, and contained in effect these words: "If God spares me to return and marry my beloved Kate within a year, I promise to build a church and dedicate it to my patron saint."
Till his cross-examination in Chancery he had never heard of this packet, and when he was informed of it his solicitor naturally demanded a copy. Gosford had destroyed the original, and of course there was no end of capital out of it; a concocted original was made, which was to the effect that this gentleman, "so like Roger,"had seduced his cousin, and that if she proved to beenceinte, Gosford was to take care of her. Luckily "Kate Doughty" had her original preserved with sacred affection. But such was the memory of this man's early life, contrasted with whatwouldhave been the memory of Sir Roger Tichborne.
He did not recollect being "at Stonyhurst, but said positively he was at Winchester, where certainly Roger never was. He did not remember his mother's Christian names, and could not write his own.
He came to England to see his mother, and then would not go to her; she went to see him, and he got on to the bed and turned his face to the wall. She did not see his face, but recognized him by his ears, because they were like his uncle's, then ordered the servant to undo his braces for fear he should choke.
Such a piece as this on the stage would not have lasted one night; in real life it had a run for many years. But then there never was a rogue that some fool would not believe in. How else was it possible that millions believed in this man, who had forgotten the religion he had been brought up in, and was married by a Wesleyan minister at a Wesleyan church, he being, as his mother informed him, a strict Roman Catholic from his birth? However, he did his best to reform his error by getting married again by a Roman priest, although he made another blunder, and forgetting he was Sir Roger Tichborne, married as Arthur Orton, the son of the Wapping butcher. When his dear mother reminded him of his being a Catholic, he wrote and thanked her for the information, and hoped the Blessed Maria would take care of her for evermore, little dreaming that the "Black Maria" would one day take particularly good care of himself.
So that he forgot the place of his birth, the seat of his ancestors, the friends of his youth, the face, features, and form of his mother, his education and religion, his brother officers in the regiment, the regiment itself, and the position he occupied, thinking he had been a private for fifteen days instead of a painstaking, studious, diligent officer, who was beloved by his fellows. He had forgotten all his neighbours, servants, dependants, as well as the family solicitor who made his will and was appointed his executor. He forgot his life in Paris, the village church of his ancestral seat—nay, the ancestral seat itself—and the very road that led to it. He forgot his old friend and historian, who swore he had never altered the least in appearance since Roger left—historian and picture-cleaner to the family. In short, there was not one single thing in the life of Roger that he knew. He forgot what any but a born fool would remember while he was in poverty and bankruptcy for a couple of hundred pounds; the real Roger had written home on hearing of the death of his uncle, from whom he derived his title and estates, saying, "Pray go to Messrs. Glyn's and exchange my letter of credit for £2,000 for three years for one for £3,000."
Imagine a man forgetting he had £3,000 a year and an estate in England worth £30,000, and earning his bread in a slaughter-house and in the Bush, borrowing money from a poor woman and running away with it.
But now another singular thing stamps this fraudulent impostor who makes so many believe in him. He, alleged by his supporters to be Sir Roger Tichborne, recollected all about a place that he had never been to; people he had never heard of, far less seen; events that he couldnotknow and which never happened to him, but did happen to Arthur Orton. He knew Wapping well—every inch of it; Old Charles Orton, the father of Arthur; Charles Orton the brother, the sisters, the people who kept this shop and that; so that when on his return to England he went to the Wapping seat of his ancestors instead of Ashford, he asked all about them, and reminded them so faithfully of the little events of Arthur's boyhood, and resembled that person so much in the face, that they said, "Why, you are Arthur Orton yourself!" True, he paid some of them to swear he was not, but the impression remained.
Mr. Hawkins told the jury how he picked up his second-hand knowledge of the things he spoke about concerning the Tichbornes, for it was necessary to be able to answer a good many questions wherever he went, especially when he went into the witness-box.
There was an old black servant, quite black, who had been a valet in the Tichborne family. His name was Bogle; and the Claimant was told by the poor old dowager that if he could meet with him, Bogle could tell him a good many things about himself.
Bogle was an excellent diplomatist, and no sooner heard from Lady Tichborne that her son Roger was in Australia than the two began to look for one another, the one as black inside as the other was out. Bogle announced that he was the man before he saw him, on the mother's recommendation, and became and was to the end one of his principal supporters—so much so that "Old Bogle" spread the Claimant's knowledge of the Tichbornes abroad, and, like everybody else, believed in him because he knew so much which he could not have known unless he had been the veritable Roger, all which Bogle had told him.
But in the interests of justice "Old Bogle" and Mr. Hawkins became acquainted, much to the advantage of the latter, as he happened to meet Bogle in the witness-box, a place where the counsel unravelled the trickster's most subtle of designs. The advocate liked "Old Bogle," as he called him, because, said he, Bogle, having white hair, was so like a Malacca cane with a silver knob, white at the top and black below.
Bogle had sworn that Roger had no tattoo marks when he left England. In point of fact he had, and Bogle had to fit them to the Claimant, who had had tattoo marks of a very different kind from Roger's. The Claimant had removed his, and therefore was presented to the court without any.
"How do you know Roger had no tattoo marks?" asked Mr. Hawkins.
"I saw his arms on three occasions." This was a serious answer forBogle.
"When and where, and under what circumstances?" followed in quick succession, so that there was no escape. The witness said that Roger had on a pair of black trousers tied round the waist, and his shirt buttoned up.
"The sleeves, how were they?"
"Loose."
"How came you to see his naked arms?"
"He was rubbing one of them like this."
"What did he rub for?"
"I thought he'd got a flea."
"Did you see it?"
"No, of course."
"Where was it?"
"Just there."
"What time was this?"
"Ten minutes past eleven."
"That's the first occasion; come to the second."
"Just the same," says Bogle.
"Same time?"
"Yes."
"Did he always put his hand inside his sleeve to rub?"
"I don't know."
"But I want to know."
"If your shirt was unbuttoned, Mr. Hawkins, and you was rubbin' your arm, you would draw up your sleeve—"
"Never mind what I should do; I want to know what you saw."
"The same as before," answers Bogle angrily.
"A flea?"
"I suppose."
"But did you see him, Bogle?"
"I told you, Mr. Hawkins, I did not."
"Excuse me, that was on the first occasion."
"Well, this was the same."
"Same flea?"
"I suppose."
"Same time—ten minutes past eleven?"
"Yes."
"Then all I can say is, he must have been a very punctual old flea."
Exit Bogle, and with him his evidence.
After the trial had been proceeding for some time, Baigent was giving evidence of the family pedigree.
Honeyman whispered, "We might as well have the first chapter ofGenesis and read that."
"Genesis!" said Hawkins; "I want to get to the last chapter ofRevelation."
One day Mr. J.L. Toole came in, and was invited to sit next to Mr.Hawkins, which he did.
At the adjournment for luncheon the Claimant muttered as they passed along, "There's Toole come to learn actin' from 'Arry Orkins."
There was one witness who ought not to be forgotten. It was Mr. Biddulph, a relation of the Tichborne family, a good-natured, amiable man, willing to oblige any one, and a county magistrate—"one of the most amiable county magistrates I have ever met, a man of the strictest honour and unimpeachable integrity."
He had been asked by the dowager lady to recognize her son.
"I don't see how I can," said he. "I am willing to oblige, but not at the expense of truth. Better get some one else who knew him better than I did. This man bears no resemblance to the man I knew. I cannot do it." And so he resisted all entreaties with that firmness of purpose for which he was remarkable.
"He was then invited," said Mr. Hawkins, "to a little dinner at another supporter of the Claimant's, and one somewhat shrewder than the rest." The Claimant described this party as consisting of a county magistrate, a money-lender, a lawyer, and a humbug.
This is how the advocate dealt with this little party in his address to the jury:—
"Gentlemen, can't you imagine the scene? Perkins, the lawyer, says to Biddulph, 'Come, now, Mr. Biddulph, you know you have had great experience in cross-examining as a county magistrate at Petty Sessions; now, cross-examine this manfirmly, and you'll soon find he knows more than you think. If he's not the man, he's nobody else, you may be quite sure of that. But first of all,' says Perkins, 'what did you know of Roger? That's the first thing; let's start with that.'
"'Oh, not very much,' says Biddulph. 'He stayed at Bath once for a fortnight, while his mother was there.'
"'Pass Mr. Biddulph the champagne,' says Perkins. (Laughter.)
"'Now,' he adds, 'how did you amuse yourselves, eh?'
"'Well,' says Biddulph, 'we used to smoke together at the hotel—the—the—White something it was called.'
"'Did you smoke pipes or cigars?'
"'Well, I remember we had some curious pipes.'
"'Another glass of champagne for Mr. Biddulph,' (More laughter.) 'What sort of pipes?' asks the Claimant; 'death's-head pipes?'
"The magistrate remembered, opened his eyes, and lifted his hands. Thus the amiable magistrate was convinced, although he said, candidly enough, 'I did not recognize him by his features, walk, voice, or twitch in his eye, but I was struck with his recollection of having met me at Bath.' The death's-head pipes settled him.
"As for Miss Brain the governess, she was of a different order from Mr. Biddulph. She told us she had listened to the defendant when he solemnly swore that he had seduced her former pupil, that he had stood in the dock for horse-stealing, and had been the associate of highwaymen and bushrangers, and had made a will for the purpose of fraud; and yet this woman took him by the hand, and was not ashamed of his companionship. His counsel described her as a ministering angel. Heaven defend me from ministering angels if Miss Brain is one!"
The Claimant, while in Australia, being asked what kind of lady his mother (the dowager Lady Tichborne) was, answered, "Oh, a very stout lady; and that is the reason I am so fond of Mrs. Butts of the Metropolitan Hotel, she being a tall, stout, and buxom woman; and like Mrs. Mina Jury (of Wapping), because she was like my mother."
A witness of the name of Coyne was called to give evidence of the recognition of the Claimant by the mother in Paris, and the solicitor said to Coyne, "You see how she recognizes him."
"Yes," said Coyne; "he's lucky."
There was no cross-examination, and Mr. Hawkins said to the jury,"They need not cross-examine unless they like; it's a free country.They may leave this man's account unquestioned if they like, but if itis a true account, what do you say to the recognition?"
Louie, the Dane, said that while the Claimant was on board his ship he amused himself by picking oakum and reading "The Garden of the Soul."
There were severalOspreysspoken to as having picked up the Claimant after the wreck of theBella, and the defendant had not the least idea which one was the best to carry him safely into harbour. The defendant's counsel, notwithstanding, had told the jury that he, Hawkins, had not ventured to contradict one or other of the stories of the wreck, and had not called the captain of theOspreywhich had picked him up.
Comment on such a proposition in advocacy would be ridiculous. Mr. Hawkins dealt with it by an example which the reader will remember as having occurred in his early days:—
"'We don't know whichOspreyyou mean.' 'Take any one,' says the defendant's counsel, reminding me of the defence of a man charged with stealing a duck, and having given seven different accounts as to how he became possessed of it, his counsel was at last asked which he relied on. 'Oh, never mind which,' he answered; 'I shall be much obliged if the jury will adopt any one of them.'
"You remember, gentlemen, the touching words in which the defendant's counsel spoke of Bogle: 'He is one of those negroes,' said he, 'described by the author of "Paul and Virginia," who are faithful to the death, true as gold itself. If ever a witness of truth came into the box, that witness was Bogle.'
"Well, you have seen him—Old Bogle! What do you think of him? Was there ever a better specimen of feigned simplicity than he? 'Bogle,' cries the defendant, after all those years of estrangement, 'is thatyou?' 'Yes, Sir Roger,' answered Bogle; how do you do?'
"'Do you remember giving me a pipe o' baccy?' asks a poor country greenhorn down at Alresford. 'Yes,' answers the Claimant. 'Then you're the man,' says the greenhorn. Such was the way evidence was manufactured.
"A poor lady—you remember Mrs. Stubbs—had a picture of her great-great-grandfather's great-grandfather. In goes the Claimant, and in his artful manner shows his childhood's memory. 'Ah, Mrs. Stubbs,' says he, looking at another picture, 'that is not theoldpicture, is it?' (Somebody had put him up to this.) No, sir,' cries Mrs. Stubbs, delighted with his recollection—'no, sir; but please to walk this way into my parlour,' And there, sure enough, was the picture he had been told to ask for.
"'Ah!' he exclaims, 'there it is; there's the old picture!'
"How could Mrs. Stubbs disbelieve her own senses?"
One, Sir Walter Strickland, declined to see the Claimant and be misled, and was roundly abused by the defendant's counsel. One of the jury asked ifhe was still alive. "Yes," said the Lord Chief Justice, although the defendant expressed a hope that they would all die who did not recognize him….
"In a letter to Rous, my lord, where he said, 'I see I have one enemy the less in Harris's death. Captain Strickland, who made himself so great on the other side, went to stay at Stonyhurst with his brother, and died there. He called on me a week before and abused me shamefully. So will all go some day'—this," said Mr. Hawkins, "was not exhibiting the same Christian spirit which he showed when he said, 'God help those poorpurguredsailors!'"
"Why should the defendant," asked Mr. Hawkins at the close of one of the day's speeches, "if he were Sir Roger, avoid Arthur Orton's sisters? Why, would he not have said, 'They will be glad indeed to see me, and hear me tell them about the camp-fire under the canopy of heaven,' as his counsel put it, 'where their brother Arthur told me all about Fergusson, the old pilot of the Dundee boat, who kept the public-house at Wapping, and the Shetland ponies of Wapping, and the Shottles of the Nook at Wapping, and wished me to ask who kept Wright's public-house now, and about the Cronins, and Mrs. MacFarlane of the Globe—all of Wapping.'"
The Judges fell back with laughter, and the curtain came down, for these were the questions with many more the Claimant asked on the evening of his landing.
"I shall attack the noble army of Carabineers," said Mr. Hawkins on another occasion. He did so, and conquered the regiment in detail.
One old Carabineer was librarian at the Westminster Hospital. His name was Manton, and he was a sergeant. He told Baigent something that had happened while Roger was his officer, and Baigent told the Claimant. Manton afterwards saw the huge man, and failed to recognize him in any way. But when the Claimant repeated to him what he had told Baigent, Manton opened his eyes. This looked like proof of his being the man. He was struck with his marvellous recollection, and was at once pinned down to an affidavit:—
"The Claimant's voice is stronger, and has less foreign accent," he swore; "but I recognized his voice, and found his tone and pronunciation to bethe same as Roger Tichborne's, whom I knew as an officer."
Truly an affidavit is a powerful auxiliary in fraud.
While Mr. Hawkins was replying one afternoon, Mr. Whalley, M.P., came in and sat next to the Claimant. He was from the first one of his most enthusiastic supporters.
"Well," he said, "and how are we getting on to-day? How are we getting on, eh?"
"Getting on!" growled the Claimant; "he's been going on at a pretty rate, and if he goes on much longer I shall begin to think I am Arthur Orton after all."
I will conclude this chapter with the following reminiscences by LordBrampton himself.]
* * * * *
I had a great deal to put up with from day to day in many ways during this prolonged investigation. The Lord Chief Justice, Cockburn, although good, was a little impatient, and hard to please at times.
My opponent sought day by day some cause of quarrel with me. At times he was most insulting, and grew almost hourly worse, until I was compelled, in order to stop his insults, to declare openly that I would never speak to him again on this side the grave, and I never did. My life was made miserable, and what ought to have been a quiet and orderly performance was rendered a continual scene of bickering and conflict, too often about the most trifling matters.
With every one else I got on happily and agreeably, my juniors loyally doing their very utmost to render me every assistance and lighten my burden.
Even the Claimant himself not only gave me no offence from first to last, but was at times in his manner very amusing, and preserved his natural good temper admirably, considering what he had at stake on the issue of the trial, and remembering also that that issue devolved mainly upon my own personal exertions.
Nor was the Claimant devoid of humour. On the contrary, he was plentifully endowed with it.
One morning on his going into court an elderly lady dressed in deep mourning presented him with a religious tract. He thanked her, went to his seat, and perused the document. Then he wrote something on the tract, carefully revised what he had written, and threw it on the floor.
The usher was watching these proceedings, and, as soon as he could do so unobserved, secured the paper and handed it to me.
The tract was headed, "Sinner, Repent!"
The Claimant had written on it, "Surely this must have been meant forOrkins, not for me!"
Louie's story of picking him up in the boat must have amused him greatly. If he was amused at the ease with which fools can be humbugged, he must also have been astounded at the awful villainy of those who, perfect strangers to him, had perjured themselves for the sake of notoriety.
I did what I could to shorten the proceedings. My opening speech was confined to six days, as compared with twenty-eight on the other side; my reply to nine. But that reply was a labour fearful to look back upon. The mere classification of the evidence was a momentous and necessary task. It had to be gathered from the four quarters of the world. It had to be sifted, winnowed, and arranged in order as a perfect whole before the true story could be evolved from the complications and entanglements with which it was surrounded.
And when I rose to reply, to perform my last work and make my last effort for the success of my cause, I felt as one about to plunge into a boundless ocean with the certain knowledge that everything depended upon my own unaided efforts as to whether I should sink or swim. Happily, for the cause of justice, I succeeded; and at the end, although nattering words of approval and commendation poured upon me from all sides, from the highest to the humblest, I did Hot then realize their value to the extent that I did afterwards. The excitement and the exertion had been too great for anything to add to it.
But I afterwards remembered—ay, and can never forget—the words of the Lord Chief Justice himself, the first to appreciate and applaud, as I was passing near him in leaving the court: "Bravo! Bravo, Hawkins!" And then he added, "I have not heard a piece of oratory like that for many a long day!" And he patted me cordially on the back as he looked at me with, I believe, the sincerest appreciation.
Lord Chelmsford, too, who years before had given me my silk gown, was on the Bench on this last day, and I shall never forget the compliment he paid me on my speech. It was of itself worth all the trouble and anxiety I had undergone.
Beyond all this, and more gratifying even still, my speech was liked by the Bar, from the most eminent to the briefless.
But greatest of all events in that eventful day was one which went deeper to my feelings. My old father, who had taken so strong a view against my going to the Bar, and who told me so mournfully that after five years I must sink or swim; my old father, who had never once seen me in my wig and gown from that day to this, the almost closing scene in my forensic career, came into court and sat by my side when I made successfully the greatest effort of my life.
The remembrance of my Sessions days will never vanish from my mind, although at the period of which I am speaking they had long receded into the distant past. EvenNisi Priuswas diminishing in importance, although increasing in its business and fees.
Solicitors no longer condescended to deliver their briefs, but competed for my services. I say this without the smallest vanity, and only because it was the fact, and a great fact in my life. I was wanted to win causes by advocacy or compromise; and the innumerable compensation cases which continually came in with so steady and so full a tide were a sufficient proof that, at all events, the solicitors and others thought my services worth having. So did my clerk!
Those were the days of the golden harvest, the very gleanings of which were valuable to those who came after.
Lloyd must have made £20,000 a year with the greatest ease. What my income was is of no consequence to any one; suffice it to say that no expectations of mine ever came up to its amount, and even now when I look back it seems absolutely fabulous. I will say no more, notwithstanding the curiosity it has excited amongst the members of the profession.
Of course it was a step for me from the humble "one three six;" but I have had a more lively satisfaction from that little sum than from many a larger fee.
In the midst of all this rush of London business I still found time to run down to country places in cases of election petitions or compensation.
One day I found myself on my way to Sheffield to support the member against an attempt to deprive him of his seat in Parliament. I went with the Hon. Sir Edward Chandos Leigh, my distinguished junior on that memorable occasion.
The journey was pleasant until we got near the end of it, and then the smoke rolled over and around in voluminous dense clouds, for a description of which you may search in vain through "Paradise Lost." We were met at the station with great state, and even splendour, and treated with almost boundless hospitality.
To keep up our spirits, we were taken for a drive by the sitting member a few miles out, into what they call "the country" in those parts. The suburban residence was situated in a well-wooded park, if that can be called well-wooded where there are no woods, but only stunted undergrowths sickening with the baleful fumes that proceed from the city of darkness in the distance, and black with the soot of a thousand chimneys. The member apologized politely enough for bringing us to this almost uninhabitable and Heaven-forsaken region; but I begged him not to mind: it was only a more blasted scene than the heath in "Macbeth."
"Yes," said he, still apologetically; "itisvery bad, I admit. You see, the fumes and fires from those manufactories make such havoc of our woods."
This was apparent, but the question was how to pass the time amidst this gloom and sickening atmosphere.
I found his residence, however, to my great joy, was farther than I expected from the appalling city of darkness, and hope began to revive both in my junior's heart and mine.
Our friend and host, seeing our spirits thus elated, began, to talk with more life-like animation.
"The fumes from the factories, Mr. Hawkins, have so played the devil with our trees that the general impoverishment of nature has earned for the locality of Sheffield the unpleasant title of the 'Suburbs of Hell.'"
"I don't wonder," I answered; "no name could be more appropriate or better deserved; but if it were my fate to choose my locality, I should prefer to live inthe city itself."
A curious incident happened to us during this Yorkshire visit. An excursion was arranged to see Warburton's, situated some few miles off, and notable for many oddities.
We were driven over, and when we arrived were by no means disappointed by the singularities of the mansion. It was enclosed within a high wall, which had been built, not for the purpose, as you might suppose, of preventing the house from getting away, but for that of keeping out rats and foxes; for there were birds to be preserved from these destructive animals. Next, this portion of the estate was surrounded by water, which afforded an additional security to its isolation, access to the island being attainable only by means of a bridge.
The mansion was occupied by a Mrs. Hailstone, whose duty it was to show visitors over the house and explain everything as she went along, ghost stories as well; and being a remarkably affable lady, with a great gift of language, we had a very intelligent and edifying lecture in every room we passed through, now upon ornithology, now chronology, next on pisciculture and the habits of stuffed pike and other fish. But this was not all. Our guide was wonderfully well read in architecture, and displayed no end of knowledge in pointing out the different orders and sub-orders, periods of, and blendings of the same, so that we were quite ready for lunch as soon as that period should mercifully arrive.
But it was not exactly yet. There were many other curiosities to be shown. For instance, we had not done the Warburton Library, which was a most singular apartment, as we were informed, I don't know how many stories high, at the top of a very singular tower, with as many languages in it as the Tower of Babel itself, and very nearly as tall. One only wished the whole thing would topple down before we could come to it.
At last, however, we climbed to this lofty eminence and revelled as well as we could amongst the musty old books, which themselves revelled in the dust of ages.
Having seen all the shelves and the backs of the books, and heard all the accounts of them without receiving any information, we commenced our descent by means of the winding staircase towards the garden. On our way a curious circumstance took place. There was an enormously great Danish boarhound, which had, unperceived by us, followed Mrs. Hailstone from the library; it pushed by without ceremony, and proceeded until it reached the lady, who was some distance in advance. He then carefully took the skirt of her dress with his mouth and carried it like an accomplished train-bearer until she reached the bottom of the stairs and the garden, when he let go the dress and gazed as an interested spectator. We were now in the midst of a very beautiful and well-kept garden, with a lawn like velvet stretching far away to the lake, where ultimately we should have to wait for a boat to ferry us along its placid water. This was part of our entertainment, and a very beautiful part it was.
But before we parted from Mrs. Hailstone, and while I was talking to her, I felt my hand in the boarhound's mouth, and a pretty capacious mouth it was, for I seemed to touch nothing but its formidable fangs.
It was not a pleasant experience, but I preserved sufficient presence of mind to make no demonstration. Dogs know well enough when a man or woman loves their kind, and I am sure this one was no exception, or he would never have behaved with such gentlemanly politeness. So soft was the touch of his fangs that I was only just conscious my hand was in his mouth by now and then the gentlest reminder. I knew animals too well to attempt to withdraw it, and so preserved a calm more wonderful than I could have given myself credit for.
While I was wondering what the next proceeding might be, Mrs. Hailstone begged me to be quite easy, and on no account to show any opposition to the dog's proceedings, in which case she promised that he would lead me gently to the other side of the lawn, and there leave me without doing the least harm.
All this was said with such cool indifference that I wondered whether it was a part of the day's programme, and rather supposed it was; but it turned out that she said it to reassure me and prevent mischief. I also learned that it was not by any means the first occasion when this business had taken place. It was the first time in my life that I had been in custody, and if I had had my choice I should have preferred a pair of handcuffs without teeth.
As I was being led away Mrs. Hailstone said,—
"Do exactly as he wishes; he is jealous of your talking to me, and leads any one away who does so to the other side of the garden."
Having conducted me to the remotest spot he could find, he opened his huge jaws and released my hand, wagged his tail, and trotted off, much pleased with his performance. He returned to his mistress and put his large paws on her arms—a striking proof, I thought, of the dog's sagacity.
There will be in this history some stories of my famous "Jack," but as he belonged to me after I became a Judge, they are deferred until that period arrives. The reminiscences of Jack are amongst my dearest and most pleasant recollections.
The changeful nature of popular clamour was never more manifested than on this visit.
The Claimant had been convicted and sentenced to penal servitude, but to deprive a man of his title and estate because he was a butcher's son did not coincide with the wishes of a generous democracy, who lingered round the Sheffield court, where the fate of their sitting member was to be tried. They believed in their member, and, not knowing on which side I was retained, when I went along the corridor into the court they "yah! yah'd!" at me with lungs that would have been strong enough to set their furnaces going or blow them out.
After the petition was tried, and I had been successful, they changed their minds and their language. This same British public, which not long before had "yah! yah'd!" at me, now came forward with true British hoorays and bravos. "'Orkins for ever!" "Hooray for Orkins!" "Bravo, Orkins!" "Hooray! a —— hooray! Hooray for Wagga Wagga!"
This last cry had reference to a village in Australia where the great Tichborne fraud had its origin; where the first advertisement of the dowager seeking her lost son was shown to the butcher in his own little shop, the son of the respectable butcher of Wapping.
The number of people who professed to believe in the Claimant long after he was sent to penal servitude was prodigious, although not one of them could have given a reason for his faith, or pointed to a particle of unimpeachable evidence to support his opinion. It had never been anything other than feeling in the dark for what never existed.
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 knewhispeculiarities, 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?Couldanybody 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.]
No sooner was the Tichborne case finished than I was once more in the full run of work.
One brief was delivered with a fee marked twenty thousand guineas, which I declined. It would not in any way have answered my purpose to accept it. I was asked, however, to name my own fee, with the assurance that whatever I named it would be forthcoming. I promised to consider a fee of fifty thousand guineas, and did so, but resolved not to accept the brief on any terms, as it involved my going to Indie, and I felt it would be unwise to do so.
In 1874 I was offered by Lord Cairns the honour of a judgeship, which I respectfully declined. It was no hope of mine to step into a puisne judgeship, or, for the matter of that, any other judicial position. I was contented with my work and with my career. I did not wish to abandon my position at the Bar, and my friends at the Bar, and take up one on the Bench with no friends at all; for a Judge's position is one of almost isolation. This refusal gave great dissatisfaction to many, and a letter I have before me says, "I got into a great row with my editor by your refusal." Another said he lost a lot of money in consequence: "I thought it was any odds upon your taking it."
Sir Alexander Cockburn gave me a complimentary side-cut in a speech he made to some of his old constituents.
"The time comes," said he, "when men of the greatest eminence are called upon to give up their professional emoluments for the interests of their country. In my opinion they have no right to refuse their services; no man has this right when his country calls for them."
But these animadversions did not affect me. I held on to the course which I had deliberately chosen, and which I thought my labours and sacrifices in the Tichborne case on behalf of my country entitled me to enjoy. Let any one who has the least knowledge of advocacy consider what it was to carry that case to a successful issue, and then condemn me for not taking a judgeship if he will. I was entitled to freedom and rest. A judgeship is neither, as one finds out when once he puts on the ermine. But it requires no argument to justify the course I took. I was entitled to decline, and I did. There is nothing else to be said; all other considerations are idle and irrelevant.
A judgeship was, however, a second time offered by Lord Cairns in 1876. This, after due consideration, I accepted, and received my appointment as a Judge of the Exchequer Court on November 2 of that year.
The first and most sensational case that I was called upon to preside over was known as the Penge case. Sir Alexander Cockburn had appointed himself to try it, on account of its sensational character; but as it came for trial at a time when the Lord Chief Justice could not attend, it fell to the junior Judge on the Bench.
I am not going to relate the details of that extraordinary case,[A] which are best left in the obscurity of the newspaper files; but I refer to it because it cannot well be passed over in the reminiscences of my life. I shall, however, only touch upon one or two prominent points.
[Footnote A: The great sensation of the case was almost overpowered by the great sensation that "a new power had come upon the Bench." These are, as nearly as I can give them, the words of one of our most distinguished advocates, and one of the most brilliant who was in the Penge case:—
"We felt, and the Bar felt, that a great power had come upon the Bench; he summed up that case as no living man could have done. Every word told; every point was touched upon and made so clear that it was impossible not to see it."
Another distinguished advocate said there was no other Judge on the Bench who could have summed that case up as Sir Henry Hawkins did.—R.H.]
"Every person," I said in my summing up, "who is under a legal duty, whether such duty was imposed by law or contract, to take charge of another person must provide that person with the necessaries of life. Every person who had that legal duty imposed upon him was criminally responsible if he culpably neglected that duty, and the death of the person for whom he ought to provide ensued. If the death was the result of mere carelessness and without criminal intent, the offence would be manslaughter, provided the jury came to the conclusion that there had been culpable neglect of the duty cast upon the individual who had undertaken to perform it."
With regard to the evidence of one of the witnesses who was said to be an accomplice, so that it was necessary that she should be corroborated, I said a jury might convict without it, but recommended them strongly not to take for granted her evidence unless they found there was so much corroboration of her testimony as to induce them to believe she was telling the truth.
As to one of the accused, I said: "If she had no legal object to fulfil in providing the deceased with the necessaries of life, the mere omission to do so would not render her guilty; but if she did an act wrongfully which had a tendency to destroy life, but which was not clone with that intention, she would be guilty of manslaughter."
The jury found a verdict of guilty against all, but with a strong recommendation in favour of one, in which I joined.
When a verdict of guilty of wilful murder is returned, a Judge, whatever may be his opinion of its propriety or justice, has no alternative but to deliver the sentence of death, and in the very words the law prescribes. It is nothisjudgment or decision, but it is so decreed that the sentence shall in no way depend upon the sympathy or opinion of the Judge. Whatever mitigating circumstances there may be must be considered by the Secretary of State for the Home Department as representing the Sovereign, and upon his advice alone the Sovereign acts.
But the Home Secretary never allows a sentence of death to be executed without the fullest possible inquiry as to mitigating circumstances, and it is at this stage that the opinion of the Judge is almost all-powerful.
My judgment in this case was the result of much anxious thought and consideration. The responsibility cast upon me was great. The case was as difficult as it was serious; but my line of duty was plain, and it was to leave the facts as clearly as I could possibly state them, with such explanation of the law applicable to each case as my ability would allow, and then leave the jury to find according to their honest belief. No duty more arduous has ever since been imposed upon me, and I performed it in my honest conscience, without swerving from what I believed, and believe still, to be my strict line of duty.
I have had many opportunities of reconsidering the whole circumstances, but I have never changed or varied my opinion after all these years, and am certain I never shall—namely, that I did my duty according to the best of my judgment and ability.
A Judge may go wrong in many ways, and often does in one way or other, especially if he does not know his own mind—the worst of all weaknesses, because it usually leads to an attempt to strike a medium line between innocence and guilt.
One great weakness, too, in a Judge is not having the faculty of setting out the facts in language which is intelligible to the jury, or in not setting them out at all, but repeating them so often and in so many forms that they are at last left in an absolutely hopeless muddle. A Judge once kept on so at the jury about "if you find burglarious intent, and if you don't find burglarious intent," that at last the jury found nothing except a verdict of not guilty, giving the "benefit of the doubt as to what the Judge meant."
As an illustration of the necessity of giving the jury a clear idea of the evidence in the simplest case, I will state what took place at Exeter. Juries are unused to evidence, and have very often to be told what is the bearing of it. In a case of fowl-stealing which I was trying, there was a curious defence raised, which seemed too ridiculous to notice. It was that the fowls had crept into the nose-bag in which they had been found, and which was in the prisoner's possession, in order to shelter themselves from the east wind.
Forgetting that possibly I had an unreasoning and ignorant jury to deal with, I thought they would at once see through so absurd a defence, and did not insult their common sense by summing up. I merely said,—
"Gentlemen, do you believe in the defence?"
They put their heads together, and kept in that position for some time, and at last, to my utter amazement, said,—
"We do, my lord; we find the prisonernot guilty."
It was a verdict for the prisoner and a lesson for me.
It was always my practice, founded on much calculation of the respective and relative merits and demerits of prisoners, to do what no other Judge that I am aware of ever did, which was to put convicted prisoners back until the whole calendar had been tried, then to bring them up and pass sentence after deliberate consideration of every case. I thus had the opportunity of reading over my notes and forming an opinion as to whether there were any circumstances which I could take into consideration by way of mitigation, or, in the same manner, as to whether there were matters of aggravation, such as cruelty or deliberate, wilful malice. The result of this plan on one occasion at Stafford Assizes, which I remember very well, was this. Two men were convicted of bigamy. The offence was the same in law as to both the prisoners. The one was altogether, physically and morally, a brute, cruel and merciless. The other man found guilty had been a bad husband to his wife before he went through the form of the second marriage; but as he had been already punished for his misconduct in that respect, I thought it fair that he should not be punished again for the same offence. Such is my idea of the law of England, although I fear it is sometimes forgotten. I therefore treated this man's crime as one of a very mitigated character, no harm having been done to the second woman, and released him on his own recognizances to come up for judgment if he should be called upon. I would not revisit upon him his past misdeeds. The other man I sent into penal servitude for five years.
"That's Orkins hover there," said a burly-looking sportsman as I arrived one day at Newmarket Heath—"'im a-torkin' to Corlett. See 'im? Nice bernevolent old cove to look at, ain't 'e? Yus. That didn't stop 'is guvin' mefive of his wery best, simply becorze by accident I mistook someb'dy else's 'ouse and plate-chest for my own. Sorter mistake which might 'appen a'most to henybody. There 'e is; see 'im? That's Orkins!"
I need not say I was frequently spoken of in this complimentary manner by persons who had been introduced to me at the Bar. I was once leading a little fox terrier with a string, because on several occasions he had given me the slip and caused me to be a little late in court. I led him, therefore, in the leash until he knew his duty.
On this day, however, as the crowd was waiting for me on the little platform of a country station, my fox terrier jumped out in front of me while I was holding him by the string.
"Good ——!" cried a voice from a gentleman to whom I had previously given a situation under Government, livery and all found; "why, blow me if the old bloke ain't blind! Lookee there, 'is dawg's a-leadin' 'im; wot d'ye think o' that?"
But persons in much higher station were no less at times fond of chaff, which I always took good-humouredly. A story of Lord Grimthorpe, who, many years after, had some fun with me at times over my little Jack, will appear in his reminiscences a little farther on. I used to lead Jack with a string in the same manner as I had done the other, for educational purposes, and Lord Grimthorpe jocularly called me Jack's prisoner. But I must let him tell his own story in his own way when his turn comes.
The Midland Circuit was always famous for its ill accommodation of her Majesty's Judges, and of late years even in the supply of prisoners to keep them from loitering away their days in idleness or lonely diversions.
I always loved work and comfortable lodgings, and may say from the first to the last of my judicial days set myself to the improvement of both the work and the accommodation.
Some Judges in their charges used to discourse with the grand jury of our foreign relations, turnips, or the state of trade; but I took a more humble theme at Aylesbury, when I informed that august body that the quarters assigned to her Majesty's Judges were such that an officer would hardly think them good enough to billet soldiers in.
"My rest, gentlemen, has been rudely disturbed," said I, "in the lodgings assigned to me. My bedroom was hardly accessible, on account of what appeared to be a dense fog which was difficult to struggle through. I sought refuge in the dressing-room. Being a bitterly cold night and a very draughty room, some one had lighted a fire in it; but, unfortunately, all the smoke came down the chimney after going up a little way, bringing down as much soot as it could manage to lay hold of. All this is the fault of the antiquated chimneys and ill-contrived building generally. My marshal was the subject of equal discomfort; and I think I may congratulate you, gentlemen, not only on there being very few prisoners, but also on the fact that you are not holding an inquest on our bodies."
The grand jury were good enough to say that there was "an institution called the Standing Joint Committee, who will, no doubt, inquire into your lordship's subject of complaint." The "Standing Joint Committee" sounded powerfully, but I believe no further notice was taken, and the question dropped.
"That's a nice un," said one of the javelin-men at the door when a friend of his came out. "Did yer 'ear that, Jimmy? Orkins is a nice un to talk about lodgings. Let him look to his own cirkit—the 'Orne Cirkit—where my brother told me as at a trial at Guildford the tenant of that there house wouldn't pay his rent. For why? Because they was so pestered wi' wermin. And what do you think Orkins told the jury?—He was counsel for the tenant.—'Why,' he says, 'gentlemen, you heard what one of the witnesses said, how that the fleas was so outrageous that they ackshally stood on the backs o' the 'all chairs and barked at 'em as they come in.' That's Orkins on his own circuit; and 'ere he is finding fault with our lodgings."
It was not long after my arrival at Lincoln, on the first occasion of my visiting that drowsy old ecclesiastical city, that I was waited upon, first by one benevolent body of gentlemen, and then another, all philanthropists seeking subscriptions for charitable objects.
One bitterly cold morning I was standing in my robes with my back to the fire at my lodgings, waiting to step into the carriage on my way to court, when a very polite gentleman, who headed quite a body of other polite gentlemen, asked "if his lordship would do them the honour of receiving a deputation from the L. and B. Skating Club." I assented—nothing would give me more pleasure; and in filed the deputation, arranging themselves, hats in hand, round me in a semicircle.
"We have the honour, my lord, to call upon your lordship in pursuance of a resolution passed last night at a special meeting of our club—"
"What is the name of your club?"
"The L. and B. Skating Club, my lord."
"What is its object?"
"Ourobject, my lord?"
"No, the object of yoursociety. I can guess your object."
The leader answered with a smile of the greatest satisfaction,—
"Er—skating, my lord."
"Your own amusement?"
The head of the deputation bowed.
"Do you wantmeto skate?"
"No, my lord; but we take the liberty of asking your lordship to kindly support our club with a subscription."
"When I see," I replied, "so much poverty and misery around me which needs actual relief, and when I look at this inclement weather and think how these poor creatures must suffer from the cold, it seems to me thattheyare the people who should apply to those who have anything to bestow in charity; not those who are the only people, as it would appear, who can take pleasure in this excruciating weather. See if your club cannot do something for these poor sufferers instead of collecting merely for your own personal amusement; contribute to their necessities, and then come and see me again. I shall be here till Monday."
The head of the deputation stared, but it did not lose its presence of mind or forget its duty. The deputation made a little speech "thanking me heartily for the kind manner in which they had been received."
I never saw anything more of them from that day to this.
[In a case at Devizes Sir Henry showed in a striking manner the character he always bore as a humane Judge. He was not humane where cruelty was any part of the culprit's misdeeds, for he visited that with the punishment he thought it deserved, and his idea of that was on a somewhat considerable scale.]
I was down upon cruelty, and always lenient where there were any mitigating circumstances whatever, either of mental weakness, great temptation, provocation, or unhappy surroundings.
A woman was brought up before me who had been committed to take her trial on a charge of concealing the birth of a child. For prisoners in these circumstances I always felt great sympathy, and regarded the moral guilt as altogether unworthy of punishment. The law, however, was bound to be vindicated so far as the legal offence was concerned. She had already been in prison for three months, because she was too poor and too friendless to find bail. I am always pointing out that if magistrates would send more cases to the Judges than they do, they would get some precedents as to the appropriate measure of punishment, which they seem badly to need. This woman had already been punished, without being found guilty, with three times the punishment she ought to have received had she been found guilty. A month's imprisonment would have been excessive.
Prisoners should always be released on their own recognizances where there is a reasonable expectation that they will appear.
The result was that the unhappy woman, who had been punished severely while in the eye of the law she was innocent, was discharged when she was found to be guilty.
We have seen how Mr. Justice Maule examined a little boy as to his understanding the nature of an oath. I once examined a little girl upon a preliminary point of this kind, before she had arrived at that period of mental acuteness which enables one to understand exactly the meaning of the words uttered in the administration of the oath. The child was called, and after allowing the form of "the evidence you shall give," etc., and "kiss the book," to be gabbled over, I said, before the Testament could reach the child's lips,—
"Stop! Do you understand what that gentleman has been saying?"
"No, sir."
I think it is a great farce to let little children be sworn who cannot be expected to understand even the language in which the oath is administered, to say nothing of the oath itself. How can they comprehend the meaning of the phrases employed? And many grown-up uneducated people are in the same situation. Surely a simple form, such as, "You swear to God to speak the truth"—or, even better still, to make false evidence punishable without any oath at all—would be far better.